How nice of you to bring,
the flowers, fresh,
How nice of you to sing
the seldom, sung
How nice of you to come,
though a little, late
How nice of you to think,
though with a hint, of hate
To place the flowers, on the tombstone cold.
To sing the prayers, who to evil sold.
To whom you come to meet, and met his grave.
And now you bury the feelings, of events old.
How nice of you to come,
For great was the vice
But you remained, you noble self
How nice...