To Whom it May Concern

Should I die some windy day,
wrap me up in sheets,
and billowingly bear me down
the gray and empty streets.

When if at sea I meet my end
bid the Capitan weep,
weight my shell with stone and steel,
and set me on the deep.

In arid desert, chance I go,
conserve, and do not cry,
but build me high a bed of wood
and bury me in the sky.

If I, while diving in sleepy cay,
a shark should strike and kill,
spear it quick and fresh fillet,
and mourn me as you grill.

Ere in violence I am slain,
and they find me cold and pale,
burn me with regretful silence,
and tell them all my tale.

If I on hot and sunny day
should happen to expire,
then dig and bury me by hand,
and tears of sweat perspire.

Should I drop quite suddenly
in the middle of life’s day,
then harvest all my organs
and give them all away.

Ere I go while watching TV
dull and fat with butter,
mourn me for only sixty minutes,
then go and do something other.

Polonium is nasty stuff-
If I eat some in my bread
then mark me radioactive
and make my casket lead.

And should I pass in jungle,
Keep all the men awake,
until I lay in earthen pit,
the deepest they can make.

When stranded in some plane disaster,
where death my hunger takes,
if you too, soul blind with madness,
must eat to live, partake.

Or swallowed by some evil swamp
in places maps won’t show,
stack me a rough pillar of stone,
and from that cursed place go.

In deepest hour of darkest night,
If a nameless horror with a grin
should drag me screaming from my bed,
never speak my name again.

But if I die at home asleep,
and old and wise as well,
then lift your head and smile
at the tolling of the bell.