Our annual Halloween poem: "You can lead a corpse to water"


You can lead a corpse to water
But you cannot make him drink.

If you try to feed him cookies
He'll just sit and stare and stink.

You think he might like skating,
But he'll slip upon the rink.

And the Ballet is impossible.
He looks terrible in pink.

It's best to contemplate a
Better occupation.

Something practical and useful,
Not just mindless recreation.

You think he's got the kind of time
To take a long vacation?

He's quickly decomposing!
He needs self-actualization!

Remember what we said
Back when you wanted this so bad:

"It's a big responsibility.
Don't just jump onto the fad."

A corpse is not a toy.
He was expensive for your dad.

You treat him with respect,
Unlike our foray with the iPad.

You could get him naval work
As a folding piece of ballast.

Or hire him as seat-filler
For patrons far too callous.

He could stop up drafts in windows
Of a haunted house or palace.

Or lend him out for seesaws
So that loners keep their balance.

Most important is his welfare.
You must not betray his trust.

A corpse requires patience.
You mustn't show disgust.

The lesson here is tolerance;
Your stomach will adjust.

If this works out well for you,
We'll get the mummy we discussed.


Goblins, Trolls, Irony, and the Death of Art