My boy builds coffins with hammers and nails He doesn't build ships, he has no use for sails He doesn't make tables, dresses or chairs He can't carve a whistle cause he just doesn't care
My boy builds coffins and I think it's a shame That when each ones been made, he can't see it again He crafts every one with love and with care Then it's thrown in the ground and it just isn't fair.
My boy builds coffins he makes them all day But it's not just for work and it isn't for play He's made one for himself One for me too One of these days he'll make one for you.