Not long for this world,
Is our dear Mr. Ed,
He will be keeping his head,
But his pants will be down unfurled...

Over on The Book of Face,
This guy does pick on me, but I keep pace,
He is digging himself a big old hole,
To bury him it needs to be big,
As his head at the bottom & his feet sticking out,
After his torture his head will be bald,
But we will bury him with pride; on his head we will put a wig…

No one will recognize him, not even his dogs,
Even his scent will change after being dragged on the range,
No longer will we ever again be at odds,
His wife will be rich, his inheritance a great deal,
She can move to the islands & never miss a meal…

So poor old Mr. Ed, realize where you stand you are nothing but dead,
If you stay at home behind your homes walls,
Showing exactly how little are your balls,
You may get off with a warning,
So stay in your house & your friends won’t be quite soon of your passing, mourning…
© -ed- 9/16/15