Standard (EADGBE)
A mistake has been made it's a fact they can't hide
Though I'm partly to blame it can not be denied
There ain't no use defending, it seems I've been tending
The wrong grave for twenty three years.
A letter dropped on to my doormat one day
And I thought I'll ignore that - it might go away
And I took up my shears to the place where for years
I presumed my sweet darling had lain.
Curse those in charge of plots, curse these forget-me-nots
I've been sharing my innermost thoughts with an Edward McCrae
I'm inconsolable and at times uncontrollable
Ah but she wouldn't know 'cos she's two hundred metres away.
I'm numb from the sting that I've been tending
The wrong grave for twenty three years,
Oh I walked up in Autumn, I ran up in spring
To the wrong grave for twenty three years,
Oh ding a ling a ling a ling, now ain't that a thing
The wrong grave for twenty three years,
The wrong grave for twenty three years
The wrong grave for twenty three years.