Death is no laughing matter;
It isn’t some practical joke.
It doesn’t care if you’re thinner or fatter;
Death comes to all sorts of folk.
Death isn’t anything new, we all know
It began in the Garden of Eden.
Cain, he killed Abel, it was mano a mano;
He was jealous and just had to get even.
Death came to Caesar as quit a surprise
At a meeting in the Theatre of Pompey.
The Senators punctured his back and his sides;
“Et tu, Brute?” was all he could say.
Death for young Romeo was a goblet of poison
Which he drank thinking Juliet was dead.
She found her dead lover, stabbed herself in the bosom
And dropped dead at the foot of his bed.
Death is the bloody result of world war;
Brave men within earshot of guns.
Grenades flying high like a bird on the soar;
Frightened lads crying out for their mums.
Death is something we don’t like to ponder;
It gives us the cold sweats and chills.
Not so for a psycho who’s out on the wander;
Killing quenches his thirst for cheap thrills.
Death is merely a passage of sorts,
Ambiguous though it may seem.
Don’t forget what your mom used to say ’bout your shorts,
“If you die they had better be clean!”
Death can sometimes be quit accidental;
Even crossing the street isn’t easy.
Finding oneself in the path of a rental
Will most certainly make you feel queasy.
Death likes to climb into bed when you’re sleeping;
Some say it’s the most pleasant way.
Under your bloomers and sheets it comes creeping;
Good thing you had no plans for the day!
Death can be so inconvenient!
It shows up when you haven’t a hunch.
One minute you’re pitching your new camping tent
And the next you’re a hungry bear’s lunch.
Death likes to hide in the darkest of places
Where junkies shoot up in the night.
But nobody sees the relief on their faces
When they finally give up the fight.
Death can appear right in front of your car
And you cannot control your Range Rover.
You slam on the brakes but you’ve gone way too far
And drive over the White Cliffs of Dover!
Death comes a-tapping on your neighbor’s back window
And you’re thinking “Thank God it’s not me!”
Next thing you know your poor wife is a widow
When you’re squashed by your dead neighbor’s tree.
Death has been known to appear at the station
While you’re waiting for the next express train.
There go your big plans for summer vacation;
But you made the late news – don’t complain!
Death frequently happens in bathrooms
After falling through the glass shower door.
It’s going to take more than a mop and some brooms
To clean all the blood off the floor.
Death will take all the fun out of life;
I hear that it happens quite often.
So have lots of sex with your perky young wife
Before they lower the lid on your coffin!
Death comes to all whether dirt poor or rich;
It’s never been known to discriminate.
You can be a real gent or a son of a bitch,
Pure of heart or brimming with hate.
Death will happen in every generation;
Today or tomorrow, no one can tell.
Whether a low-life or of high veneration
We’re all gonna end up in heaven or hell.
Death doesn’t come for a gain or a profit;
It’s certainly no money-maker
Unless, of course, you’re lucky to sit
In the chair of the rich undertaker
NAR © 2020