Friday, December 9, 2011

A Place in Space

If hubby’s death has made you frantic,
Do not give in to fear or panic.
     Pick up your cell
     And give a yell
To someone here at Mid-Atlantic.

Our funeral service staff is manic
To offer services romantic:
     By force of heat,
     Your life-long sweet
Will soon resemble ash volcanic.

And then our senior staff mechanic,
Who learned his trade in lands Germanic,
     Will launch your love
     Ten miles above
The ocean fondly called Atlantic.

Some folks may think our work satanic,
But in a market this gigantic
     It does not pay,
     We like to say,
To pander to the sycophantic.

With recent posts (like here and here)
Some readers may begin to fear
The Bard is focused on demise
And may do something most unwise.

Relax, dear reader, do not fear!
The Bard is in good humor here.
He simply scans the nightly news
And chooses that which might amuse.

And nothing brings a bit of cheer,
Like sending to the atmosphere
A relative who met the axe –
With savings on your income tax!

1 comment:

  1. Understand from whence we have come
    But having a "blast" can't be glum
    Ashes in the air
    Don't think that we care
    That's why we've resorted to rum

    Our "loved one" has simply been lost
    Like salad that has just been "tossed"
    It soon goes away
    What more can we say
    At ten miles high there'll be some frost!!