Summer of 1853

There once was a man named charity Joe

Who lived near bourbon street.

Though many patrons called him

he was never well received.

His fair was but a dollar 

for those then called to rest.

To journey down the Styx 

inside that paltry wooden chest.

From time to time old Joe would hear his clients change their mind.

Though he never paid attention and delivered them on time.

They’d shout to him in fear and dread when lowered in the earth.

But Charity Joe would fill the hole while giggling full of mirth.

And so one night there came a call for Charity Joe to take.

So out he went into the dark, a terrible mistake..

His ride was ever pleasant for no noise that client spake.

His caller left much money and the box had little weight.

But as his lantern flickered on, his heart was filled with dread.

For round about him in that graveyard, stood his clients cold and dead.