Lyrics:

A dreaded sunny day
So I meet you at the cemetery gates
Keats and Yeats are on your side

A dreaded sunny day
So I meet you at the cemetery gates
Keats and Yeats are on your side
While Wilde is on mine

So we go inside
And we gravely read the stones
All those people, all those lives
Where are they now

With their loves and hates
And passions just like mine
They were born and then they lived
And then they died
Seems so unfair and I want to cry

You say, 'Ere thrice the sun done, salutation to the dawn'
And you claim these words as your own
But I've read well and I've heard them said
A hundred times, maybe less, maybe more

If you must write prose and poems
The words you use should be your own
Don't plagiarize or take on loan
There's always someone, somewhere
With a big nose who knows
And who trips you up and laughs when you fall
Who'll trip you up and laugh when you fall

You say, 'Ere long done, do, does, did'
Words which could only be your own
And then produce the text from whence was ripped
Some dizzy whore, eighteen hundred and four

A dreaded sunny day
So let's go where we're happy
And I meet you at the cemetery gates
Oh, Keats and Yeats are on your side

A dreaded sunny day
So let's go where we're wanted
And I meet you at the cemetery gates
Keats and Yeats are on your side
But you lose cause weird lover Wilde is on mine
(Sugar)