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Folk ask if I'm alive,
          Most think I'm not;
Yet gaily I contrive
          To till my plot.
The world its way can go,
          I little heed,
So long as I can grow
          The grub I need.

For though long overdue,
          The years to me,
Have taught a lesson true,
          --Humility.
Such better men than I
          I've seen pass on;
Their pay-off when they die;
          --Oblivion.

And so I mock at fame,
          With books unread;
No monument I claim
          When I am dead;
Contented as I see
          My cottage thatch
That my last goal should be
          --A cabbage patch.

Added: 29 Jun 2002 | Last Read: 4 Sep 2026 2:35 AM | Viewed: 7076 times

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