Six weeks after the burial

Of the young beautiful Mary

I walk with a spade towards the

Great cemetery in which she's dead

Mary McEnroe, I've known you since I was two

When we were nine, you were so fine, you were only mine

At twenty-five you met Clive, you became his bride

At twenty-seven you reached heaven because of me

I dig in the mud, a coffin I see in which you must be...

I jump in the grave

Jump in the grave, eager to meet you

In there you lay

In there you lay, a pleasure to meet you again

I carry you up

I carry you up, I just want to see you again...

We dance on the grave and we move like the sea

This process reeks, you've been dead now for weeks

Still you've got charm but I can't find your arms

Mary bloody Mary is dead

But I kept her beautiful head