A dreaded sunny day    so I meet you at the cemetery gates   Keats and Yeats are on your side      A dreaded sunny day    so I meet you at the cemetery gates   Keats and Yeats are on your side   while Wilde is on mine      So we go inside and we gravely read the stones   all those people all those lives   where are they now?   with the loves and hates   and passions just like mine   they were born    and then they lived and then they died   seems so unfair   and I want to cry      You say: "ere thrice the sun done salutation to the dawn"   and you claim these words as your own   but I've read well, and I've heard them said   a hundred times, maybe less, maybe more      If you must write prose and poems   the words you use should be your own   don't plagiarise or take "on loans"   there's always someone, somewhere   with a big nose, who knows   and who trips you up and laughs   when you fall   who'll trip you up and laugh   when you fall      You say: "ere long done do does did"   words which could only be your own    and then you then produce the text   from whence was ripped some dizzy whore, 1804      A dreaded sunny day    so let's go where we're happy   and I meet you at the cemetery gates   Oh Keats and Yeats are on your side      A dreaded sunny day    so let's go where we're wanted    and I meet you at the cemetery gates   Keats and Yeats are on your side   but you lose because Wilde is on mine