I’m not sure about this one because I don’t know enough about the life of Heine to be sure who Pauline and Mathilda actually were. And there’s a dodgy elision in the last but one line – but it’s slangy enough.
They’ll sing no requiem for me
No Kaddish will they say
No word or song from anyone
to mark my dying day.
Yet maybe on the sort of day
when weather’s fine and mild
she’ll walk Montmartre with Pauline
Miss Matty, that sweet child.
She’ll bring a wreath of immortelles
to lay against my grave
and sob ‘Poor man’ and look so sad.
And up here I can’t wave
I’m stuck unhappily on high
My darling’s there below
I can’t reach her. She dawdles home
her limping feet are slow.
Oh sweet sad child, you shouldn’t walk
You’ve money for the fare
Stop just outside the graveyard gate
And get a taxi there