Collection

Parade of instruments going by Such melancholy as I've e'er heard Not a word, just slowed gestures And slurred music, sadness bestirred

I think I'll stand nigh and cry a tear And watch the mourners mourn As goes by the funeral I hear New Orleans style, sadly forlorn

It's tradition, for this town of parades To mourn the dead with music And followers, slowly played... Till come we now upon graveside

And when they've been laid to rest The music begins again, followers Now returning home to attest Tradition brought us home, riposte