By Ben King
IF I should die to-night
And you should come to my cold corpse and say,
Weeping and heartsick o’er my lifeless clay—
If I should die to-night,
And you should come in deepest grief and woe—
And say: “Here’s that ten dollars that I owe,”
I might arise in my large white cravat
And say, “What’s that?”
If I should die to-night
And you should come to my cold corpse and kneel,
Clasping my bier to show the grief you feel,
I say, if I should die to-night
And you should come to me, and there and then
Just even hint ’bout payin’ me that ten,
I might arise the while,
But I’d drop dead again.