The Undertaker's Daughter Songtext
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Once upon a time, in a faraway place.
There's a tiny town no one thought to name.
On the outskirts of the town,
tucked beneath the willow trees.
Silent as death, was a small cemetary.
The undertaker's daughter was a maiden most fair.
With her sweet rosy pink cheeks and long flaxen hairDay after day,
she learned her father's trade.
Day after day, she wandered to the graves.
There's a tiny town no one thought to name.
On the outskirts of the town,
tucked beneath the willow trees.
Silent as death, was a small cemetary.
The undertaker's daughter was a maiden most fair.
With her sweet rosy pink cheeks and long flaxen hairDay after day,
she learned her father's trade.
Day after day, she wandered to the graves.
Alone in the corner,
where the light did not shine
was an angel made of stone
who looked up to the sky.
Her hands folded in a prayer.
Her feet covered in grime.
And Laying upon them was a plaque old as time.
The undertaker's daughter had wandered there,
with her sweet rosy pink cheeks and long flaxen hair.
She looked to the plaque,
and she thought it was odd.
She looked to the plaque,
and the grave's name was gone.
Everyday from then on,
The daughter went there,
to the grave with the angel,
with the plaque that was bare.
Sitting there all alone,
the daughter thought that it was sad.
No one ever brought flowers
there were no gifts to be had
One day the daughter
Went to the seaside.
She played in the sand
With the sun shining bright.
While hunting around.
The daughter had found
A seashell so beautifulpearly and round.
The undertaker's daughter had searched there,
with her rosy cheeks and long flaxen hair.
She wanted more, of those lovely seashells
And She wanted more,
and she had a plan, as well...
The undertaker's daughter was maiden most fair,
with her sweet rosy pink cheeks and her long flaxen hair.
A gift for the grave, with no name in sight.
A gift for the grave, these seashell so bright...
The undertaker's daughter had left them there,
back when she had rosy cheeks and long flaxen hair.
Now she was gone, but though t'was so long agothe seashell still shined,
the grave was not alone...the grave was not alone...the grave was not alone...
where the light did not shine
was an angel made of stone
who looked up to the sky.
Her hands folded in a prayer.
Her feet covered in grime.
And Laying upon them was a plaque old as time.
The undertaker's daughter had wandered there,
with her sweet rosy pink cheeks and long flaxen hair.
She looked to the plaque,
and she thought it was odd.
She looked to the plaque,
and the grave's name was gone.
Everyday from then on,
The daughter went there,
to the grave with the angel,
with the plaque that was bare.
Sitting there all alone,
the daughter thought that it was sad.
No one ever brought flowers
there were no gifts to be had
One day the daughter
Went to the seaside.
She played in the sand
With the sun shining bright.
While hunting around.
The daughter had found
A seashell so beautifulpearly and round.
The undertaker's daughter had searched there,
with her rosy cheeks and long flaxen hair.
She wanted more, of those lovely seashells
And She wanted more,
and she had a plan, as well...
The undertaker's daughter was maiden most fair,
with her sweet rosy pink cheeks and her long flaxen hair.
A gift for the grave, with no name in sight.
A gift for the grave, these seashell so bright...
The undertaker's daughter had left them there,
back when she had rosy cheeks and long flaxen hair.
Now she was gone, but though t'was so long agothe seashell still shined,
the grave was not alone...the grave was not alone...the grave was not alone...
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