Allez vite,
Ce n'est pas Magritte.

Poor Ted Kennedy loved Glenfiddich,
but it cost him more than Chappaquidic.

A poet lies here-- tread softly, birds.
He'll resurrect to give you words.

God lies here, our saving lamb.
The one who said I am who am
is now a mound of putrid fuzz.
He am no am, he am who was.

In this fresh grave lies Britney Spears,
the idol of so many steers.
Her hymen fixed up by the surgeon,
the bat claimed she was always virgin.

Her rotten voice would always croak.
She'd stomp and scream to show some bloke
that keeping virtue was her pain.
Oops! I think I said it again.



------------------
--

Svein Olav
http://nonserviam.com/solan/

Here lies Mary Queen of Scots,
hothead redhead, dead;
a redneck too, at least she was
when we'd chopped off her head.

Porridginal



[This message has been edited by Porridgeface (edited July 13, 2001).]

He claimed he'd found the Holy Grail
from which to savor art.
His leaky verse was doomed to fail
for all that he might rant and rail--
Like him, it's gone beyond the pale
and no one gives a fart.

Carol

Here by the request of his spouse
Is carved a verse for Mickey Mouse;
His ears were floppy and black,
But he was a demon in the sack.

Composed by me, James Elroy Flecker
(A.K.A Woody Woodpecker)

Here lies the body of Albert Gore,
(Well most of it - there may be more),
two legs were lost (and some arms),
an index finger and several palms.
Where did they go? You may well ask,
for in this last post mortem task,
they left it to an old mortician
- a "Floridan" - and quite patrician.
He never really learned his math;
Jeb, the Texan psychopath.

This is one the Susquehanna Quarterly published for me

Here lies Johnny Murphy
who was always laid back
smoking marijuana,
cocaine and crack.

He lies in this graveyard
alack and alas;
with a stone at his head
that says "Keep Off The Grass"

Jim