Schmuck

Was a schlepp to see him in his casket,

When we got there, it was some sort of basket.

We had traipsed through the park

after dark

to see Mark

Bask like a shark in a suit.

We saw him in the murk, in the muck

In the shadows he lurked.

It was just his foul luck

to get struck

on his first day at work

on the dock

by a heavy brick-bucket.

His granny, clutching her locket.

His empty eye socket

We all clocked it.

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