No sad songs for me, I’ll tell you why.

My name is on a list that when I die

My flesh and bones, what’s left of me,

I should say all that’s left, will be

Picked up and taken to a place

Where what is left leaves in a vase,

Where bright young folks are taught the skills

They need to fix a body broken on the wheels

Of commerce or wracked by disease,

Excess of many kinds, and all about the fees

For service rendered. Go ahead and cut away,

You youngsters, so you’ll know some day

From what you learned by practicing on me

The way to save a life or to collect a fee.

The reason, does it matter if the job gets done?


Then on the other hand it may occur to one

It’d be okay to go ahead and let them die

When they get sick or hurt. I’ll tell you why.

It’d ease the population problem, screen

Out trash and tend to keep the gene pool clean,

A filter for disease the race don’t need

And traits that can and do debase the breed.

Look at our furred and feathered friends,

For instance those with gills and fins.

Think what a salmon has to do to prove

His bona fides, his lady too, remove

All doubt. Makes better salmon, that’s for shore,

Both for filleting and for making more.


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