The Undertaker's Daughter
Once upon a time
In a faraway place
There's a tiny town
That no one thought to name
On the outskirts of town
Tucked beneath the willow trees
Silent as death
Was a small cemetery
The undertaker's daughter was a maiden most fair
With her sweet rosy pink cheeks and long flaxen hair
Day 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 prayer
Her feet covered in grime
And Laying upon them
Was a plaque as 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
Had went to the seaside
Playing in the sand
With the Sun shining bright
While hunting around
The daughter had found
A seashell so beautiful
Pearly and round
The undertaker's daughter had searched through 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 a maiden most fair
With her sweet rosy pink cheeks and 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 ago
The seashell still shined
The grave was not alone
The grave was not alone
The grave was not alone
A Filha do Coveiro
Era uma vez
Em um lugar distante
Havia uma cidade pequena
Que ninguém pensou em nomear
Na periferia da cidade
Escondida sob os salgueiros
Silenciosa como a morte
Havia um pequeno cemitério
A filha do coveiro era uma moça muito bela
Com suas bochechas rosadas e longos cabelos loiros
Dia após dia, ela aprendeu o ofício do pai
Dia após dia, ela vagava pelos túmulos
Sozinha no canto
Onde a luz não brilhava
Havia um anjo de pedra
Que olhava para o céu
Suas mãos unidas em oração
Seus pés cobertos de sujeira
E sobre eles estava
Uma placa tão antiga quanto o tempo
A filha do coveiro havia vagado até lá
Com suas bochechas rosadas e longos cabelos loiros
Ela olhou para a placa e achou estranho
Ela olhou para a placa, e o nome do túmulo havia sumido
Todo dia a partir de então
A filha ia até lá
Para o túmulo com o anjo
Com a placa que estava vazia
Sentada lá sozinha
A filha achou triste
Ninguém nunca trazia flores
Não havia presentes a serem dados
Um dia a filha
Foi até a praia
Brincando na areia
Com o sol brilhando forte
Enquanto procurava
A filha encontrou
Uma concha tão linda
Perolada e redonda
A filha do coveiro havia procurado por lá
Com suas bochechas rosadas e longos cabelos loiros
Ela queria mais, daquelas conchas adoráveis
E ela queria mais, e tinha um plano também
A filha do coveiro era uma moça muito bela
Com suas bochechas rosadas e longos cabelos loiros
Um presente para o túmulo, sem nome à vista
Um presente para o túmulo, essas conchas tão brilhantes
A filha do coveiro as deixou lá
Quando ainda tinha bochechas rosadas e longos cabelos loiros
Agora ela se foi, mas embora tenha sido há tanto tempo
A concha ainda brilhava
O túmulo não estava sozinho
O túmulo não estava sozinho
O túmulo não estava sozinho