What is more boring than dying?
It’s a terrible waste of time:
lying there twiddling my eyebrows
or dreaming up words that might rhyme.

Why don’t I chant a ‘te deum’
or swear repenting remorse
or scream for succour or sanctum
or plead for a stay of sentence?

Perhaps the postman’s at the door
or my dead wife came back again
or once more it’s the brink of war
or women have turned into men.

It’s a BORE. I don’t even care
if I’ve seen my very last dawn!
WAIT: a decisive idea !!!
I'll get up and yawn my head off!