It's supper time but he stays outside He tends to feel the world, the sun is high He drowns himself in a bottle of rye The young men live while the old men... Oh, Mother Mary won't you bury me Oh, Mother Mary won't you carry my soul Oh, Mother Mary won't you bury me In a bed where I can sleep Oh, Mother Mary won't you bury me Oh, Mother Mary won't you carry my soul Oh, Mother Mary won't you carry me To a place where I can sleep The days are hard but there's mouths to feed And his old hands still sewing seed Remembered when he was young, he made that creek Until the mortal core [?] Oh, Mother Mary won't you bury me Oh, Mother Mary won't you carry my soul Oh, Mother Mary won't you bury me In a bed where I can sleep Oh, Mother Mary won't you bury me Oh, Mother Mary won't you carry my soul Oh, Mother Mary won't you carry me To a place where I can sleep The days are hard The days are hard The days are hard The days are hard Oh, Mother Mary won't you bury me Oh, Mother Mary won't you carry my soul Oh, Mother Mary won't you carry me To a place where I can sleep