He stepped into his coffin twice a year,
to stretch himself and see if it was fitting.
But this was not enough, so in a hearse
they drove him to the cemetery lane.
Sitting up for the duration of the ride,
giving orders to the driving undertaker,
he waved at people in the street. He caused
his wife a fatal heart attack this way.
And now he’s dead himself, the hearse no longer his,
but every now and then, on misty days,
he can been seen, while waving from his coffin.