Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead, Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last forever; I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one; Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood, For nothing now can ever come to any good.
Remember young days in the past. People were sincere and honest. They honored what they said. Early morning in the railway station. Long, dark and empty was the street. The soybean milk diner was steaming with heat. Days were slower in the past. Carriage, horse, and mail did not reach fast. You need your lifetime to just love the person who is right. The lock was fine in the past. The key was exquisite and fit. You lock and he will get it.