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When I quit this mortal shore,
And mosey round this earth no more,
Don't weep or sigh or grieve a cob,
I may have struck a better job...

Don't go and buy a big bouquet,
For which you'll find it hard to pay,
Don't hang around me lookin' blue,
I may be better off than you.

Don't tell folks I was a saint,
Or anything you know I ain't,
If you have that stuff to spread,
Please hand it out before I'm dead....

If you have roses, bless your soul,
Just put them in my buttonhole,
But do it while I'm at my best,
Instead of when I'm safe at rest.


We found this poem in a '2 for 1' bin at a thrift store in Spokane, Washington. It was signed very simply, 'Mom'.

 

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