I don't mind becoming old but

I don't want to grow up or calm down.

I want to die with a great big grin on my face

And be buried in a Y shaped coffin at the age of 93

I want my bier to be covered in lacy underwear

And silk sheets, and to have Dury's

Sex and Drugs and Rock and Roll played at my service.

Let 'em walk away from my grave to the sound of

Reasons to be Cheerful; let me leave you laughing.

I want my funeral party to be a rip-roaring

Celebration of Led Zep, Queen, Who, Stones,

Bowie, McColl, Armatrading, Free, Sabbath

(Oh do play Paranoid), Lou Reeds Transformer

And his Perfect Day. Let a special few listen to

Return to Innocence; and think of me.

Let there be poetry, laughter, tears,

Plenty drink and decent food,

Let the speakers blow and neighbours complain.

Share my possessions out, take a keepsake if you like.

But please, don't be bland.

Bite life on the arse for me occasionally

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Witchone

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