I tend to like my friends alive
For though the dead ones are no trouble
When I think how I had to strive
To kill them, it’s incredibubble.
I hope you know I only jest
For I would never take the life
Of any friend from worst to best
Now on the other hand, a wife...
It’s true I’ve only had the nine
And that they were unlucky all
The crashing car, the poisoned wine,
That unseen bear-trap in the hall.
The puffer-fish that some how got
Into the celebration flan,
The creature that time had forgot
(Not meant, now, to be known by man)
Who knew it would become enraged
I should have locked the time machine
Or kept the safety bar engaged
Upon the Upper Pleistocene.
Too, many thought, I should have guessed
The need for entertaining fare
When Dracula, comes as a guest
It’s always for the host to share.
And number seven, (hair of red)
Started out lucky, but no more
For though the Tiger was well fed
She should have picked the Other Door.
Eight and Nine, were practically
One and the same well, being twins,
I draw no line exactically
Where one ends or where one begins.
They’re both dead now. The balloon burst,
The zeppelin also caught alight,
I sometimes think I have been cursed
That things just never turn out right.
But still, I hear you’re single now
How many husbands dead? A Dozen?
I’d marry you with hopeful vow
Oh wait, no Damn! I am your cousin.
I kept lying there thinking, what had I done.
And where was the body, and who hid the gun,
But these are the things that you’re bound to regret
When far too much chocolate meets Russian roulette.