the exhausted wife

For the father is now dead 
God mercy upon his soul
Our hearts are like heavy lead
A life troubled falls into a dug hole
In the ground and in the dust
Our father shall lay immortal
As our tears turn to weathered rust 
A life to write post-mortal 
On which to say "I, the father"
I have sinned as I have lived 
Could this life have been simpler
I do not know what is left to give
Mercy upon father sinner 
As he is left unto the grave
To the Lord shall we deliver 
A soul of which to save
For the fires of hell shall consume
In a red blustery fight with the devil 
Of what we the living presume
Is a fight to stave off evil 
Upon the land he, the father was born
In a simple shack of broken wood 
His own father had raised fists in scorn 
One hellish night the devil here stood 
The exhausted wife had pleaded 
To not strike the crying child
The cries were left unheeded 
Little infant Annabelle blue had died 
So now her father, layed to rest 
Into the ground earth nearby 
Where Annabelle in her small white vest 
Her body aside now lies 
Father, father this day 
This prayer too 
As your body lay 
We say 
"good riddance
     good riddance to you"