I grant you
I am no easy man
to live with
and when I am gone
there is sure to be sighs
of relief
going around

They would say
look he had his faults
but he had a heart of gold
or words to that effect

And I would hate the waiting
with the flowers wilting
all trussed up like a chicken

And how I would wish
I could sit up
and scare
the bejesus
out of them mourners
in black suits
and long faces

They would think
a stake through
his black heart
ain't such a bad idea
but six feet under
in a cast iron casket
gotta hold him for sure

The pall bearers
would grin and bear it
as they carry me away
and drop me
like a sack of potatoes
in a hole
in a ground

then they would
stand guard over me
make sure I am dead
and some priest
with whiskey
on his breath
would curse
the day I was born
as he reads
from the good book

So I would lie
in the dark
with mud
in my mouth
and make the worms
that call up
miserable
with my
bad behavior.

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