Blue Marbled Elm Trees
No I shan’t complain if on an April day
The ice gusts in from Norway
Scours the sun off of your grieving skin
And as you lay me down to sleep
Under earth two metres deep
Take the stones and the coals from the songs
You place them at my head you place them at my feet.
No I shan’t complain if only a dozen or so
Of the loves of my life cannot contain their grief
And they weep real tears from all those wasted years
And as you lay me under ground take comfort in the knowing
That they have in each a bitter soul to keep.
No I shan’t complain
I had the best time laughing with my girls
I had the best life offered up
By this blue marble or any alien world
No I shan’t complain if the lasting memory of me
Is of new life budding in the leaves of the elm trees.
No I shan’t complain.
