Four Weddings and a Funeral: After the Funeral / Funeral Blues

Lyrics

Perhaps you will forgive me if I turn from my own feelings to the words of another splendid bugger, W.H. Auden. This is actually what I want to say: Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone Prevent the dog from barking with the juicy bone Silence the pianos and, with muffled drum Bring out the coffin. Let the mourners come Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling in the sky the message: "He is dead!" Put crepe bows around the white necks of the public doves Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves He was my north, my south, my east and west My working week and Sunday rest My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song I thought that love would last forever; I was wrong The stars are not wanted now; put out every one Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood For nothing now can come to any good