The Findells: Music
mary underground
(The Findells)
Say, did you hear about Mary?
Her name was in the obituary.
She used to sit beside me in the class,
Now she’s buried underneath the grass.
Mary underground
I never said goodbye.
Even though it was long ago
Still I sit and wonder why.
I think of Mary sometimes
As though she were still around.
I hate to think of Mary underground.
Mary used to call me on the phone
And talk off all her problems – quite alone
But in the morning she was always down.
I hate to think of Mary underground.
An empty desk is filled-
Someone’s taken her place
As though she was never there,
But I can’t forget her face
White as snow, but pretty as anyone around.
I hate to think of Mary underground.