| Na, na na na. |
| Na, na, na…
|
| Silenced by death in the grave,
|
| Da da da da. |
| William Butler Yeats couldn’t save.
|
| Da da de da. |
| Why did you stand here,
|
| Were you sickened in time?
|
| But I know by now.
|
| Why did you sit here, ah…
|
| In the grave, in the gra-a-ave.
|
| In the grave, in the gra-a-a-ave?
|
| Why should I blame her,
|
| that she filled my days with misery,
|
| Or that she would of late have taught
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| To ignorant men most violent
|
| Ways or hurled the little streets upon the great.
|
| Had they but courage equal to desire.
|
| Sad that Maud Gonne couldn’t stay,
|
| Da da da da, but she had Mac Bride anyway.
|
| And you sit here with me on the Isle Inisfree,
|
| And you’re writting down ev’rything.
|
| But I know by now.
|
| Why did you sit here, ah…
|
| In the grave, in the gra-a-ave.
|
| In the grave, in the gra-a-a-ave?
|
| La da da da; |
| La da da da…
|
| William Butler…
|
| Why should I blame her,
|
| Had they the courage equal to desire.
|
| William Butler… |