A whimsical meditation on mortality and the ultimate, good-humored embrace of life’s final curtain call.
If you were around in the early 1970s and were paying any real attention to the new troubadours emerging from the folk and country-tinged landscapes, you’d know that a song by John Prine had a way of sidling up to you, tapping you on the shoulder, and delivering an undeniable truth wrapped in humor, melancholy, and unparalleled wisdom. “Please Don’t Bury Me,” released on his third album, Sweet Revenge, in October 1973, is perhaps the quintessential example of this unique genius. While the album itself garnered respectable attention, peaking at #135 on the Billboard Pop Albums chart, Prine’s work has always transcended the immediate, often fickle, measure of chart success. His was the kind of music that found you, not the other way around, passed hand-to-hand like a treasured secret.
The heart of the song is a glorious, almost absurd, fantasy about one’s own demise and the aftermath. It kicks off with one of the most deadpan, perfectly constructed opening lines in modern songwriting: “Woke up this mornin’, put on my slippers, walked in the kitchen and died.” Immediately, the song dismisses the somber formality usually associated with death, replacing it with a moment of mundane, almost slapstick, absurdity. The story, as Prine himself shared, evolved from an initial character idea about a man who dies, is sent back as a rooster, and then was reworked into what he affectionately called “the best organ donor campfire song I know of.” The central plea—”Please don’t bury me / Down in the cold cold ground / No, I’d rather have ’em cut me up / And pass me all around”—is not a fear of death, but a hilarious, practical-minded rejection of useless finality.
For those of us of a certain age, who’ve started to think about the inventory of years left versus those spent, this song is a comfort disguised as a joke. It’s a testament to the belief that even in the face of oblivion, you can maintain a sense of self and a mischievous spark. Prine’s vision is one of ultimate utility: throwing his “brain in a hurricane” or giving his ears to the deaf, regardless of the size. It’s a final, generous gesture that turns the solemn, isolated act of burial into a communal, almost riotous, party. The lyrics are a masterclass in his signature style: simple language, vivid imagery, and a profound emotional core beneath a surface of playful Americana.
Sweet Revenge, the album on which it appeared, was a key moment in Prine‘s development, following his acclaimed self-titled debut and the equally strong sophomore effort Diamonds in the Rough. It cemented his reputation as a songwriter’s songwriter, an artist whose lyrical clarity and deeply empathetic observations made him a guiding light for generations of musicians. “Please Don’t Bury Me” serves as a bright, enduring beacon of his irreverent, compassionate, and eternally witty perspective on the human condition—a reminder that a well-lived life deserves an unconventional, perhaps even hilarious, farewell.
Oldies Songs