(Mike Sparks)

Oh me name it is Jack Hamble a gravedigger to my trade
Just tell me where you want it dug and leave me with me spade
And if you let me on me own and don't get in the way
I'll dig a standard eight by six in less than half a day

Oh me father was a digger and his father dug graves too
And looking at the family tree it's all we seem to do
For back among our history when grave robbing was the norm
We were digging up at night those who we'd buried in the morn

I've dug graves in gravel and in mud as thick as dough
And I've dug 'em in the sand where you'd to board them as you go
And when your digging hits a spring and the grave fills like a moat
You've dug a burial at sea where you can watch the coffin float

Though science brought cremation and brought digging by machine
There'll always be a job for me by hand it's neat and clean
For when others trade is dying, dying's trade to me
And when others trade is looking up, mine's looking down you see

So I'll just go on digging 'til they find a spot for me
And if I have a bit of luck I'll dig me own for free
And when St. Peter's trumpet sounds and up the dead all sit
The lucky one's will proudly say, Jack Hamble dug my pit

© 1992 Mike Sparks

This song appears on the CD 'Going Round Again'