Ya Estufas

Walk the coffin to the grave,
wipe the tears away,
mourners dressed in black,

an American flag on a simple box,
soldiers with rifles ready for the salute,
the winter sky itself wears gray,

somber clouds hanging overhead,
snowflakes suspended in the trees,
walk the coffin to the grave,

they’ll hand the loved ones Old Glory
and as that old lovable pig says…
Th… Th… Th… That’s All Folks!