My boy builds coffins with hammers and nails He doesn't build ships, he has no use for sails He doesn't make tables, dressers or chairs He can't carve a whistle cause he just doesn't care
My boy builds coffins for the rich and the poor Kings and queens; they've all knocked on his door Beggars and liars, gypsies and thieves They all come to him 'cause he's so eager to please
My boy builds coffins he makes them all day But it's not just for work and it isn't for play He's made one for himself One for me too One of these days he'll make one for you For you, for you, for you
My boy builds coffins for better or worse Some say its a blessing, some say its a curse He fits them together in sunshine or rain Each one is unique, no two are the same
My boy builds coffins and I think it's a shame That when each one's been made, he can't see it again He crafts everyone with love and with care Then it's thrown in the ground, it just isn't fair
My boy builds coffins he makes them all day But it's not just for work and it isn't for play He's made one for himself One for me too One of these days he'll make one for you