At the cemetery I pulled like a rope
Pulled on harder than Bob
Location being the safest
I pulled and pulled to the fastest
With my best friend Joe.
It passed from hand to hand
Lip to lip, 'twas all we had.
That green vale turned to a factory
Next to the cemetery
Pulling with the dead.
After a minute Joe and I
We saw paradise with our own eye
No graves but roads
Paved with gold
The dead being angels walking with Joe and I.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem