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John Prine – Please Don’t Bury Me

John Prine Made It OK to Stay a Kid

About the Song

When it comes to blending humor with heart, few songwriters ever did it better than John Prine—and “Please Don’t Bury Me” is one of his finest, funniest, and most enduring examples. Released in 1973 as the opening track of his sophomore album Sweet Revenge, this song welcomes listeners with a rollicking, upbeat melody that cleverly masks its unusual subject: death. But in classic Prine fashion, even a song about dying turns into a joyride filled with warmth, wit, and a surprisingly life-affirming message.

The premise of “Please Don’t Bury Me” is as whimsical as it is wise. The narrator, having apparently died by accident, requests not to be buried in the ground but to have his body donated—piece by piece—to the world. From giving his stomach to Milwaukee for beer-making, to handing his ears over to the deaf, he rattles off a list of bizarre, hilarious post-mortem wishes. But behind every quirky line is something deeply human: the desire to be remembered, to be useful, and to leave a little joy behind.

What makes the song so appealing—especially to older, seasoned listeners—is its refusal to treat death as something somber or untouchable. Prine strips away the fear and ceremony and replaces it with laughter and light. His delivery is cheerful, conversational, almost like he’s sitting on your porch telling tall tales with a grin. And underneath the jokes, you can hear a tender reverence for life. There’s no self-pity here—just a humble, humorous man who’s made peace with the inevitable and is cracking one last joke on the way out.

Musically, the song bounces with acoustic guitar, piano, and a bit of country twang. It’s toe-tapping and deceptively light for a song that starts with someone waking up to find they’ve died. But that contrast—that unique Prine magic—is what makes it unforgettable.

For many fans, “Please Don’t Bury Me” is more than just a novelty tune. It’s a reminder that even in our final moments, there’s room for laughter. And that joy, even in the face of death, might be the most generous legacy of all.

So the next time life feels heavy, put on this tune, smile at the absurdity of it all, and remember what John Prine taught us: that sometimes, the best way to face the end is with a wink, a grin, and a guitar in hand.Poet Laureate of the Suburbs: John Prine | Washerman's Dog

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Lyrics: Please Don’t Bury Me

Woke up this morning
Put on my slippers
Walked in the kitchen and died
And oh what a feeling!
When my soul
Went thru the ceiling
And on up into heaven I did ride
When I got there they did say
John, it happened this way
You slipped upon the floor
And hit your head
And all the angels say
Just before you passed away
These were the very last words
That you said:

[Chorus:]
Please don’t bury me
Down in that cold cold ground
No, I’d druther have “em” cut me up
And pass me all around
Throw my brain in a hurricane
And the blind can have my eyes
And the deaf can take both of my ears
If they don’t mind the size
Give my stomach to Milwaukee
If they run out of beer
Put my socks in a cedar box
Just get “em” out of here
Venus de Milo can have my arms
Look out! I’ve got your nose
Sell my heart to the junkman
And give my love to Rose

[Chorus]

Give my feet to the footloose
Careless, fancy free
Give my knees to the needy
Don’t pull that stuff on me
Hand me down my walking cane
It’s a sin to tell a lie
Send my mouth way down south
And kiss my ass goodbye

[Chorus]

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August 16, 1977 began quietly at Graceland, with no sign that before the day was over, the world would be talking about Elvis Presley in the past tense. He was only 42. Within hours of the news spreading, people began gathering outside the gates. Some brought flowers. Others simply stood there crying beside strangers. What made the scene so powerful was that many of them had never met Elvis. Yet his voice had been present at their first dances, their heartbreaks, their family gatherings, and the private moments when a song somehow understood what they could not put into words. They were mourning someone famous, but the grief felt strangely personal.

There was one person who could make Elvis Presley forget, at least for a moment, that the world called him “The King.” To Lisa Marie Presley, he was simply Daddy. She was born on February 1, 1968, exactly nine months after Elvis and Priscilla’s wedding, and from the beginning she occupied a place in his heart that fame could never touch. Elvis could walk into an arena and hear thousands screaming his name, but those closest to him understood that the small voice calling him “Daddy” meant something entirely different. Lisa was not another part of the Elvis Presley story. She was his child, and his love for her was intensely personal.

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