29 August 2012
They've all had their injections
They all should be immune
But for the eighth arrival
Deaths spectre calls the tune
The bastard of diseases
A vicious, nasty thing
Time, then, for the final jab
To end her suffering
Now stands an empty pen
High ground from which she'd rule
I'm sorry Madam Peaches
But it's kinder to be cruel
We didn't have you long
But I got to know you well
And up in bunny Heaven
I'm sure you're raising Hell!
But no need to be sad
For if someone gets her way
The pen will be refilled
Probably some time today...
Jab • Opuss № I