Gravedigging Blues

The wind howls like broken glass I'm riding my black horse to the edge of town Rusty gates left open to the world Maybe today someone will sing along I'd like to be out of work But I know that someone's got to do it These new graves won't fill themselves Old St. Anthony is lighting his fires Trying to help us stay warm at night His black-winged ravens are bringing us bread Feeding us when the ground is a hand of ice I'd like to be out of work But I know that someone's got to do it These new graves won't fill themselves Some things are better left buried underground I think we all know that But we're busy making beds for others to sleep in The silver's been sold and the lots have been cast I'd like to be out of work But I know that someone's got to do it These new graves won't fill themselves