Poetry Place

That's life
K Kotun copyright 1996

As hard as nails he was;
good old George Balls.
"That's a matter of opinion," he'd say,
"people like me are rare nowadays."
He didn't have a wife;
certainly no children.
"I wouldn't know what to do with them;
they can't keep me warm and feed me."
He didn't have any family.
"I have no use for them;
they certainly wouldn't need me."

His life he spent alone.
Knew no joys of friendship.
" I quite like my own company, thank you;
there is no price to pay."

Stingy, oh! So stingy was our Mr. Balls.
His money, he would not spend;
he kept it so well, no one knew where.
"It's mine and I'll hold on to it if you don't mind?"
Not at all Mr.George Balls; you're one of a kind.
You're all alone now, just like you always wanted to be,
but only one song for you from the choir, you see.
No mourners, no tears; nobody to say goodye.
And on your tombstone it is written:
"The man who lived a lie!"