Meeting after midnight in the graveyard,
smoking cigarettes and drinking wine,
wondering what happened to our old friend
before he bought the farm in '59.
They say that Benny was a playboy,
bon vivant and quick to misbehave.
That's what probably drove him
down into an early grave.
Maybe the earth just moved underneath me
or the wine is going to my head.
All you can do is laugh and laugh
and long enough to raise the dead.
I know and you know
those rumblings are Benny getting brave,
and one day he might join us
and we'll go dancing, dancing on his grave,
on his grave, Benny's grave.