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As a young piper, I was asked by a funeral director to play at a grave-side service for a homeless man with no family or friends. The funeral was to be held at a cemetery way back in the country, and this man would be the first to be laid to rest there.

As I was not familiar with this backwoods area, I became lost; and being a typical man, did not stop for directions. I finally arrived an hour late. I saw the backhoe and crew, who were eating lunch, but the hearse was nowhere in sight.

I apologised to the workers for my tardiness, and stepped to the side of the open grave, where I saw the vault lid already in place. I assured the workers I would not hold them up for long but this was the proper thing to do.

The workers gathered around, still eating their lunch. I played out my heart and soul.

As I played, the workers began to weep. I played, and I played like I'd never played before: From My Home, The Lord is my Shepherd to Flowers of the Forest. I closed the lengthy session with Amazing Grace and walked to my car.

As I was taking off my coat, I overheard one of the workers saying to another, "Lard Jeezuz, I never seen nothin' like that before and I've been puttin' in septic tanks for 20 years."