Use your fuckin' hands mate...

Fuckin' shov'ls.  I see t'e technology we use n' play wit n' smile me a bit.  Sure, as hell as walks in t'e flames of t'e devil's spittin', I use t'is shit m'self. 

But back, in t'e time you all dream of bein' in - damn you'se and your p'irate flicks.  Back t'en, believe t'is wordin' 'r not, t'ere weren't none a shov'l in t'is ground.  We dug wit hands, mate, hands.  Fuckin' bare hands.  Diggin' t'e graves, one by one, dropping 'em stiffs like rocks. 

Ya know w'at?  I liked it.  Damn, I did so.  Felt like an honest day's work t'ere diggin' me like t'at.  On 'our knees, diggin', wit t'e stiff next t' us.  It was kinda like gettin' t' know t'e person, ya know, t'e dead one.  Made dying a little more pers'nal. 

Fuckin' shov'ls. 

Six Feet Under

T'is "six feet under" shit pisses me off just a bi' or so.  Many have fallen t' a grave on t'e waters, salted and not.  Some have fallen right t'ere in a gutter, drowning on t'ere own blood.

Now, I 'a dug me t'ousands a' graves so far n' I can t'll you that we don't stand t'ere wit a tape measur'in the dirt we shovel'in.  F'r m', I dig 'til I get m' fill... eit'er m' hands bleed 'r I get a little t'irsty for s'me whiskey.

Six feet under.  Sure.