Cemetry Gates (Live in Boston)

[Chorus]
A dreaded sunny day
So I meet you at the cemetry gates
Keats and Yeats are on your side
A dreaded sunny day
So I meet you at the cemetry gates
Keats and Yeats are on your side
While Wilde is on mine

[Verse 1]
So we go inside and we gravely read the stones
All those people, all those lives, where are they now?
With-a loves and hates and passions just like mine
They were born, and then they lived, and then they died
Seems so unfair, I want to cry
You say: "'Ere thrice the sun done salutation to the dawn"
And you claim these words as your own
But I've read well and I've heard them said
A hundred times, maybe less, maybe more

[Verse 2]
If you must write prose and poems the words you use should be your own
Don't plagiarise, don't take "on loan"
'Cause there's always someone, somewhere with a big nose, who knows
And who trips you up and laughs when you fall
Who'll trip you up and laugh when you fall
You say: "'Ere long done do does did"
Words which could only be your own
And then produce the text from whence was ripped
Some dizzy whore, 1804

[Chorus]
A dreaded sunny day, so let's go where we're happy
And I meet you at the cemetry gates
Oh, Keats and Yeats are on your side
A dreaded sunny day, so let's go where we're wanted
And I meet you at the cemetry gates
Keats and Yeats are on your side, but you lose
Whale blubber Wilde is on mine

[Talking]
You have good taste, thank you