The Gravedigger

He was a gravedigger who made little a day 
And for money and prosperity, he would pray 
Stuck in a job he could not break free
He was a servant to the dead for eternity 
Until one day he wished for a mound of gold 
The life he truly desired he would behold 

For a decade past two thousand ten  
And he would become one of the wealthiest men 
The illness swept the world, people enraged
However, he was secure, his empathy caged

And few would listen to the doctors of the time 
So one by one each would die 
And the gravedigger so busy all day and night 
Became overrun with a selfish delight