Wednesday, 9 January 2019

Happy Hour In The Mortuary...



It was Happy Hour

In the mortuary

And as the clock struck twelve

Steely doors swung open

And cadavers shuffled from shelves

Some were sturdier than others

A few were missing odd parts

But this didn't halt rictus reverie

Nor did it Formaldehyde farts

Old Mary was giving it big licks

As she grooved to songs from the grave

That's what brought her here in the first place

When she fell off the stage at a rave

Big Barry had choked on his supper

Whilst devouring a hearty pot roast

The irony being that posthumously

Breakdancing popped pork from his throat!

Shelf-stacker Sheila from Sheffield

Was lovin' a bit of hip-hop

Just as she once had in her living years

'Fore succumbing to a dodgy hip op

But the one who displayed all the best moves

Was Stan the night porter who dropped

Straight to the floor at the sight that he saw

His dance being 'Convulsions In Shock'.



Poem only © Copyright Lynn Gerrard

6 comments:

  1. Flossing Flora missed the fun maybe she will catch up at the chapel of restinpieces.

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  2. I like this. It reminds me of a song about a morgue!

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  3. "As the pelvis dislocated laid alongside Elvis gyrating still in tune."
    Loved it! 🖤🤣😉

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