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Dorothy
Written by Colin Beveridge and Sam Hartburn.
Content note: this song mentions death and is generally very sad.
Lyrics:
Dorothy died in the arms of a passing pedestrian
Who brushed aside the suggestions
That she ought to wait for the ambulance crew
As if there was much anybody could do
It was painfully etched into Dorothy's face
That the only prescription was kindness and grace
The passer-by slipped into mothering mode
Swept off the snow and sat down in the road
And she sang a song in a language nobody there knew
Simple in melody, simple in rhyme
A tune as old as time
A song in a language nobody there knew
Dorothy died in the cobblestone cold
With the coat of a stranger over her shoulder
The delicate fabric of Dorothy's dress
A desperate, desolate burgundy mess
And as she clung on to the thinnest of strands
The stranger reached out and took hold of her hand
Carefully cradling Dorothy's head
"There, my dear, I've got you," she said
And she sang a song in a language nobody there knew
Maybe a spiritual, maybe a psalm
A resonant rhythm of comfort and calm
A song in a language nobody there knew
Dorothy died on December the seventeenth,
Suddenly, leaving a husband and daughter behind
The family asks for respect for their privacy
At this impossible time
They appreciate greatly the chorister lady
Who selflessly came to her side
Dorothy always loved music and art
She died with a song in her heart
[wordless song]
If that was my sister, if that was my friend,
I'd want to know someone was there at the end
Singing.
View all episodes
By Written by Colin Beveridge and Sam Hartburn.
Content note: this song mentions death and is generally very sad.
Lyrics:
Dorothy died in the arms of a passing pedestrian
Who brushed aside the suggestions
That she ought to wait for the ambulance crew
As if there was much anybody could do
It was painfully etched into Dorothy's face
That the only prescription was kindness and grace
The passer-by slipped into mothering mode
Swept off the snow and sat down in the road
And she sang a song in a language nobody there knew
Simple in melody, simple in rhyme
A tune as old as time
A song in a language nobody there knew
Dorothy died in the cobblestone cold
With the coat of a stranger over her shoulder
The delicate fabric of Dorothy's dress
A desperate, desolate burgundy mess
And as she clung on to the thinnest of strands
The stranger reached out and took hold of her hand
Carefully cradling Dorothy's head
"There, my dear, I've got you," she said
And she sang a song in a language nobody there knew
Maybe a spiritual, maybe a psalm
A resonant rhythm of comfort and calm
A song in a language nobody there knew
Dorothy died on December the seventeenth,
Suddenly, leaving a husband and daughter behind
The family asks for respect for their privacy
At this impossible time
They appreciate greatly the chorister lady
Who selflessly came to her side
Dorothy always loved music and art
She died with a song in her heart
[wordless song]
If that was my sister, if that was my friend,
I'd want to know someone was there at the end
Singing.