An old man caught a lemming once
That was trying hard to die;
Before it finished its last plan,
He took it home to fry
He flicked its little head right off,
Prepared it for the pan;
Now his meat can serve some use,
Thought the little man.
He’d aimed to end up his own way,
But that don’t matter now;
This knife of mine worked just as good;
Besides he’ll do for chow.
No matter how you die, you’re dead;
There ain’t no doubt to that.
He chose to go; I helped him out.
And he popped it in the fat.
Edwin F. Kagin
Last updated: 9 January 2005