My boy builds coffins with hammers and nails

He doesn't build ships, he has no use for sails

He doesn't make tables, dressers or chairs

He can't carve a whistle 'cause he just doesn't care.

My boy builds coffins for the rich and the poor

Kings and queens, they've all knocked on his door

Beggars and liars, gypsies and thieves

They all come to him 'cause he's so eager to please.

My boy builds coffins he makes them all day

But it's not just for work and it isn't for play

He's made one for himself

One for me too

One of these days he'll make one for you

For you, for you, for you.

My boy builds coffins for better or worse

Some say it's a blessing, some say it's a curse

He fits them together in sunshine or rain

Each one is unique, no two are the same.

My boy builds coffins and I think it's a shame

That when each one's been made, he can't see it again

He crafts every one with love and with care

Then it's thrown in the ground, it just isn't fair.

My boy builds coffins he makes them all day

But it's not just for work and it isn't for play

He's made one for himself

One for me too

One of these days he'll make one for you.