The Good Funeral Guide

How wonderfully funny it would be to see a funeral director greeted at t’crem with a hearty chorus of this from the assembled grievers.

“Where did you get that hat?
Where did you get that tile?
Isn’t it a nobby one, and just the proper style?
I should like to have one Just the same as that!”
Where’er I go, they shout “Hello! Where did you get that hat?”

Children’s author Shirley Hughes wants this played at hers. 

Played yesterday at Mirror columnist Sue Carroll’s funeral. More here. 

I’ll be seeing you in all the old familiar places
That this heart of mine embraces all day through
In that small cafe, the park across the way
The children’s carousel, the chestnut trees, the wishing well

I’ll be seeing you in every lovely summer’s day
In everything that’s light and gay
I’ll always think of you that way
I’ll find you in the morning sun
And when the night is new
I’ll be looking at the moon
But I’ll be seeing you

I’ll find you in the morning sun
And when the night is new
I’ll be looking at the moon
But I’ll be seeing you

When I fall asleep it could be forever
So I’ll never fall asleep again
When I fall apart put me back together
And my life will be complete

Maybe it’s tonight
Maybe tomorrow night
Next week
Next month
Next year
We’ve only time to fear

When I fall behind in the quest for pleasure
I shall treasure this short time with you
We shall not be chained
We shall not be tethered
And we’ll never be unkind

If I fall in love it could be forever
So I’ll never fall in love
But the moment I can feel that you feel that way too
Is when I might fall in love with you
Fall in love with you

Hat tip to David Holmes for this, written by Jackson Browne for his first wife, who committed suicide. 

It was a ruby that she wore
On a chain around her neck
In the shape of a heart
In the shape of a heart
It was a time I won’t forget
For the sorrow and regret
And the shape of a heart
And the shape of a heart
I guess I never knew
What she was talking about
I guess I never knew
What she was living without

People speak of love don’t know what they’re thinking of
Wait around for the one who fits just like a glove
Speak in terms of belief and belonging
Try to fit some name to their longing
People speak of love

There was a hole left in the wall
From some ancient fight
About the size of a fist
Or something thrown that had missed
And there were other holes as well
In the house where our nights fell
Far too many to repair
In the time that we were there
People speak of love don’t know what they’re thinking of
Reach out to each other though the push and shove
Speak in terms of a life and the learning
Try to think of a word for the burning

You keep it up
You try so hard
To keep a life from coming apart
And never know
What breaches and faults are concealed
In the shape of a heart

It was the ruby that she wore
On a stand beside the bed
In the hour before dawn
When I knew she was gone
And I held it in my hand
For a little while
And dropped it into the wall
Let it go, heard it fall

I guess I never knew
What she was talking about
I guess I never knew
What she was living without
People speak of love don’t know what they’re thinking of
Wait around for the one who fits just like a glove
Speak in terms of a life and the living
Try to find the word for forgiving

You keep it up
You try so hard
To keep a life from coming apart
And never know
The shallows and the unseen reefs
That are there from the start
In the shape of a heart

Dedicated to Claire Callender, who wants this played at hers. 

“The music-loving world, temperamentally, seems to divide neatly into two. There are those who spend their idle hours thinking about which songs they would like to have played at their wedding; and those who spend their idle hours thinking about which songs they would like at their funeral …  Planning one’s funeral suits the auteur in me: as the sole honoree of that ceremony, I shall choose what music (and what readings) I jolly well like. I incline to the melancholy yet uplifting: music designed to induce a grave contemplation of my good taste, spiritual heroism and sensitivity. I’d like to pretend that I’m the sort of person who wants their funeral to be “a celebration of life”, but really I want people crying awfully hard.”

Sam Leith here. 

I dreamed I walked in heaven just the other night
There was so much beauty, so much light
Don’t you wish it was true
Don’t you wish it was true

An angel took my hand
Said you don’t have to hurry
Got all the time in the world don’t worry
Don’t you wish it was true
Lord don’t you wish it was true

What if tomorrow everybody was your friend
Anyone could take you in
No matter what or where you been

What if tomorrow everybody had enough
The world wasn’t quite so rough
Lord don’t you wish it was true

He said the worlds gonna change and it’s startin’ today
There’ll be no more armies, no more hate
Don’t you wish it was true
Don’t you wish it was true

And all the little children will live happily
There’ll be singin’ and laughter
Sweet harmony
Don’t you wish it was true

Lord don’t you wish it was true

What if tomorrow everybody under the sun
Was happy just to live as one
No borders or battles to be won

What if tomorrow everybody was your friend
Happiness would never end
Lord Don’t you wish it was true

Alright!

What if tomorrow everybody was your friend
Happiness would never end

Lord don’t you wish it was true

Alright!

Oooooo-A!

What a beautiful day!

Dutch Tilders, godfather of Australian blues. Died 2011. Lung cancer. Aged 69.

Great intro music. 

I went down to the St. James Infirmary
I saw my baby there,
Streched out on a cold white table,
So sweet, so cold, so fair.

So Let her go, let her go, God bless her;
Wherever she may be 
She may search this wide world over
but she’ll never find a sweet man like me.

When I die, want you to dress me in straght laced shoes
A box back coat and a Stetson hat;
Put a twenty-dollar gold piece on my watch chain
So the boys know I died standin’ pat.