Funeral Blues -
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy
bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners
come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is
Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen
wear black cotton gloves.