Spencer Heath Archive

Item 587

Poem not originally by Heath, but reworked by him and two last stanzas added

THE UNDERTAKER AND THE WORM

Scrawny and thin my dead come in

But looks are soon forgotten;

     Each hollow cheek and shrunken beak

I fill with bits of cotton.

I set their hair a-waving fair

And pull their eyelids down

Then ply my art to every part

Removing scowl and frown.

But death is brief and so is grief;

The grave makes no disgrace,

And by my care each dead shall wear

A smile upon his face.

But when the worm has done his turn

Both outside and within

That ersatz smile he will beguile

Into a horrid grin.

 

He takes for pay all flesh away,

Each lineament and line;

His work will stay till judgment day,

A cleaner job than mine.

 

 

 

/The original follows.

Title and authorship unknown./

 

Scrawny and thin my dead come in

But looks are soon forgotten

I fill the hollows of their cheeks

with little bits of cotton.

I set their hair awaving fair

And pull their eyelids down

Then like a sculptor ply my art

Removing scowl and frown.

But death is brief and so is grief

The tomb is no disgrace

And every man I bury

Wears a smile upon his face.