On the eve of July,
while the crickets were singing,
Uncle Harvey died.
He left in the wee hours of morning,
never opening his eyes
leaving Aunt Olive without good warning.
Townsfolk came to mourn for the man,
their faces painted with sadness
remembering him as a wizened peter pan.
They lifted him from his bed,
laughing at his plaid pajamas
and placed him in a casket of purplish red.
Many placed letters and chicken feathers,
inside the casket with him
not forgetting his favorite heather.
Aunt Olive was crying a river
watching as they dug the hole
thinking of God as a Indian giver.
And as they lowered him into the ground,
a muffled cry went out
clearly coming from the grave mound.
The townsfolk gasped and shook with fear,
as the casket opened
then jumped with joy and gave a cheer.
Great Uncle Harvey stepped out of his tomb,
straightening his big plaid pajamas
then crossed his arms and slouched down low in the perfect formation to fume.
"Why the heck were you burying me again? For goodness sake! I was only sleeping!"
I'm Only Sleeping - The Beatles
I can't help putting a song up with this one. It just fits so well.
)