There was an old man
And he had an old wife
Fa la la la la la la
And they rowed about music all of their life
Fa la la la la la la

But when she died
The old man cried
'How dare you go and leave me alone
And though in life
I endured such strife
We can make music
Me and your bones'

There was...

And he made a flute
From her long thigh bone
And played it to comfort his grief
And the flute shrieked high,
And wailed and moaned
And he says 'that sounds just like my wife'

There was...
And he made a fiddle
From her whole rib cage
And a bow from her long grey hair,
And he says 'she has
Improved with age
She plays to my tune
And it's good to hear'

There was...

And he took her skull
And he thought a while
And said 'What's an old man to do?;
If I string it well
It would make a small viol
And vile is how I remember you'

There was...

Then the old man sighed
And he upped and he died
But his spirit lives on in his bones
And the long bones, short bones
The thin and the wide
Became a self-hammering xylophone

There was an old man
And he and his wife
Fa la la la la la la
They're making sweet music in the afterlife
Fa la la la la la la