A hearse all draped in mourning,
With white plumes overhead,
Bearing a little coffin —
Somebody's baby's dead.
Upon the velvet cover
Some hand has placed a wreath,
White as the waxen features
Of the baby that lies beneath.
Out in the graveyard making
A rest for a shining head,
Somebody's heart is breaking,
Somebody's baby's dead.
Over a baby's coffin,
Heaping a mound of clay,
Somebody's hopes are buried
In that little grave to-day.
Somebody's home is dreary,
Somebody's sunshine fled,
Somebody's sad and weary,
Somebody's baby's dead.