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.