i live in the cemetery old caretaker they call me in the wintertime i rake the leaves and in the summer i cut the weeds when a funeral comes the people cry and pray they bury their dead then they all go away but through their grief i can still see their hate and greed and jealousy so here i work and i somehow hide from a world that rushes by outside but each night when i rest my head i m contented as the peaceful dead but who s going to cry when old john dies who s going to cry when old john dies once i was a young man dashing with the girls now no one wants an old man when i lost my handsome curls but i want to say when my time comes lay me facing the rising sun put me in a corner where i buried my pup tell the preacher to pray then cover me up don t lay flowers where my head should be maybe god would let some grow for me and all the little children that i love like my own will they be sorry that old john s gone but who s going to cry when old john dies who s going to cry when old john dies 