Sunday, March 04, 2007

Mourning

Please speed things up. We're mourning the old bitch,
But we've got tired of standing in the rain
While some queer parson, clearly gone insane,
Disgorges platitudes about the rich –
Stick him with needles, douse the fool in pitch,
Run over him with camels, score his brain
With salad forks, and talk about the pain
While throwing his old body in a ditch.

Yes, we've grown weary, and would fain lie down,
But she did that, and look what happened then.
So we'll continue to ignore the men
Who followed us when we rode into town,
And warned us not to burn her wedding gown.
She's dead now. We're still in the lion's den.

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