Bertie never misses a day,

He goes rain or shine,

It doesn’t matter if it’s day or night.

He drives by our house, along the country lane

and parks in the lay-by at the graveyard;

He opens the gate by the derelict church

and walks to his wife’s grave.

They were married for sixty years.

He talks to her, but she’s not there;

He hardly misses a day, but he misses her;

I never want it to be me.