Please Mr. Gravedigger Lyrics - David Bowie - David Bowie

There's a little churchyard just along the way 

It used to be Lambeth's finest array 

Of tombstones, epitaphs, wreaths, flowers all that jazz 

Til the war came along and someone dropped a bomb on the lot 

And in this little yard, there's a little old man 

With a little shovel in his little bitty hand 

He seems to spend all his days puffing fags and digging graves 

He hates the reverend vicar and he lives all alone in his home 

"Ah-choo, excuse me" 

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Please Mr. Gravedigger, don't feel ashamed 

As you dig little holes for the dead and the maimed 

Please Mr. Gravedigger, I couldn't care 

If you found a golden locket full of some girl's hair 

And you put it in your pocket 

"God, it's pouring down" 

Her mother doesn't know about your sentimental joy 

She thinks it's down below with the rest of her toys 

And Ma wouldn't understand, so I won't tell 

So keep your golden locket all safely hid away in your pocket 

Yes, Mr. GD, you see me every day 

Standing in the same spot by a certain grave 

Mary-Ann was only 10, full of life and oh so gay 

And I was the wicked man who took her life away 

Very selfish, Oh God 

Photos 

No, Mr. GD, you won't tell 

And just to make sure that you keep it to yourself 

I've started digging holes my friend 

And this one here's for you 

"Lifted our girl, she apparently doesn't know of it 

Hello misses, thought she'd be a little girl 

Bloody obscene, catch pneumonia or something in this rain"