When I'm All Through

JOHN V. A. WEAVER

WHEN I'm all through, and you got to get rid of me, Don't go shootin' the bunk, or makin' prayers, And all that stuff. And don't go stickin' me Into no stuffy cemetery lot.

I want some room ... I got to have room . . . That's me!

So, if you really want to take the trouble,

You take what's left, and put it in a fire,

The hottest you can find—and let 'er burn!

Till I ain't only a handful of grey somethin'.

"Ashes to ashes"—ain't that a whole lot cleaner Than "dust to dust"? You let old fire have me.

Then you just cut them ashes in four parts.

Take the first ashes to the side of a mountain,

Heave 'em up to the wind ... I use to love The way it's quiet and strong and big up there.

The second ashes, take 'em down to the ocean;

And when the waves come pilin' up the beach,

Scatter 'em where the green starts to get foamy.

They used to sing me songs about havin' nerve,

And never gettin' tired, or givin' up—

Let 'em run, and take me with 'em.

And the third part, you go out to the country,

Into some wide, long field, and spread 'em 'round.

Maybe they'll help the grass to climb a little.

I can remember how I use to roll

And dig my face down in, and sniff, and bite it,

And lay back on it, just a crazy kid,

And watch the clouds go skippin' over the sky,

And the bees, and the crazy birds, and everything Would get so perfect I would want to cry.

Then they'll be one part left. You take that down Where they's the thickest crowds, right in the city.

And when nobody's lookin', give it a sling Onto the sidewalk, underneath their feet.

The pore things, always hoofin' it along,

Somewheres, they don't know, where, and I don't, either. Always lookin' for somethin'—wonder what?

I never got very near 'em. A person can't,

Even if you want to. Everybody's scared,

So scared, you know ... So scared!... But a bunch of ashes Maybe might get real close to somebody once.

Just once . . .