A lot of Toms and Dicks and Harrys
Think of death as something scary,
But I see little cause for fright
In the unknown of an endless night.
Say a chicken passed away.
Some would cry and weep and sway
But I would fry it in some lard
In lieu of writing a sympathy card.
So if a friend or neighbor dies
Would it not be equally wise
Not to equate God to a beast
But to sell the corpse to Fancy Feast?
And if you are the one to pass
Why not do it with some class?
You’re dead, but life need not end. How?
Well, some call centers are hiring now…
The Daily Travesty 