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.