Warning: This work has been rated 16+ for language.
Alas, poor Carter, I knew him well, thank gods the cunt fin'lly lies in Hell
A jig we dance upon his dirt, to console where his guts bespoil the earth
A toast we drink to poor Purgatory, who held his soul for but seconds before 'e
Plunged fast into the Abyss, Abyss! The bubbling and broiling Abyss!
Alas, poor Carter, I knew his stench, that millenniums may never quench
A song we sing for the tainted air, liberated at last from his fetid sneer
A blessing bequeath to the metal befouled, the metal by which he was disembowelled
And ne'er again was it used, it used! It was melted to make a spittoon!
Alas, poor Carter, I knew his nose, raised higher than weathervanes ever rose
A prayer we pray for his stone belaid
Pierced through by that nose to this very day
A prayer for the gravedigger on the fen, who will have to bury his corpse again
A prayer for the flies, a prayer for the crows, a prayer for the poor worms that feast
A dirge for the cows that eat the grass that grows from the sycophant beast
A blessing for you and a blessing for all of us poor souls who knew him in life
A blessing on children who now never will but may spit in what's left of the knife