Lyrics

Death is a cobweb on the soul That surrounds at last It is a stealthy surgeon conducted first By pallid innuendoes and dim explain But brace at last with bugles And a bisected coach It bears away in triumph to truth unknown You call not that far that can be had The going from the world we know To the world a wonder still Who ponders this tremendous scene Those who will be in the grave To pity those know her not - is helped by the regreat That those who know her, know her less - The nearer her they get