William Barrett and Sons Graeme Walsh Bookmark | Page 2
FUNERAL BLUES
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 the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message ‘He is dead’.
Put crepe bows round 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 my 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 ever come to any good.
THANK YOU
Graeme’s family would like to thank you all
for the many expressions of kindness, care,
love and support you have shown them at this
time; and for your presence here today.
REFRESHMENTS
Following today’s service you are invited
to share in refreshments and memories of
Graeme at 59 Nalbarra Drive, Usher.
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