Mogen slampa knullad i skogen

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 a coffin, let the mourners come

Let aeroplanes circle mourning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message "He is dead"

Curl bows round the white necks of the public doors Let the traffic police men wear black cotton gloves

Here was my north, my south, my east and west My working week and my Sunday rest