Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone. Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone. Silence the pianos and with muffled drum, Bring out the coffin... let the mourners come. Let aeroplanes circle, moaning overhead, Scribbling on the sky the message: He is Dead. Put crepe b
Stop all the clocks,cut off the telephone.Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone.Silence the pianos and with muffled drum.Bring out the coffin,let the mourners come.He was my North, my South, my East and West,My working week and my Sunday rest.