text: My boy builds coffins with hammers and nails
  He doesnt build ships, he has no use for sails
  He doesnt make tables, dressers or chairs
  He cant carve a whistle because he just doesnt care
  My boy builds coffins for the rich and the poor
  Kings and queens, theyve all knocked on his door
  Beggars and liars, gypsies and thieves
  They all come to him because hes so eager to please
  My boy builds coffins, he makes them all day
  But its not just for work and it isnt for play
  Hes made onе for himself
  One for me too
  Onе of these days hell make one for you
  For you, for you, for you
  My boy builds coffins for better or worse
  Some say its a blessing, some say its 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 its a shame
  That when each ones been made, he cant see it again
  He crafts everyone with love and with care
  Then its thrown in the ground, it just isnt fair
  My boy builds coffins, he makes them all day
  But its not just for work and it isnt for play
  Hes made one for himself
  One for me too
  And one of these days hell make one for you
  For you, for you, for you