richard burton - the funerall lyrics
whoever comes to shroud me, do not harm
nor question much
that subtle wreath of hair, which crowns my arm;
the mystery, the sign, you must not touch
for ’tis my outward soul
viceroy to that, which then to heaven being gone
will leave this to control
and keep these limbs, her provinces, from dissolution
for if the sinewy thread my brain lets fall
through every part
can tie those parts, and make me one of all
those hairs which upward grew, and strength and art
have from a better brain
can better do’it; except she meant that i
by this should know my pain
as prisoners then are manacled, when they’are condemn’d to die
whate’er she meant by’it, bury it with me
for since i am
love’s martyr, it might breed idolatry
if into other hands these relics came;
as ’twas humility
to afford to it all that a soul can do
so, ’tis some bravery
that since you would have none of me, i bury some of you
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