A Mean Old Cuss, Raised Unholy Cane, And Was Abel. Poem by Michael Gale

There was a man who had a cane...
Abel, did he raise.

This man was ornery...
Ornery through the day.

He kicked his sons when be they young...
When they disobeyed.

He'd hurl insults their way...
To be with them in a sad filled stay.

He shamed them once and he'd shame them twice...
He'd make them to feel as if they were lower than mice.

One day finally did he die...
To befittly, where he'd lie.

In his will, was they left...
Empty booze bottles, had he kept.

The many sons upon his grave...
Pissed upon this unmanly knave.

The grave marker was so stained in yellow...
It was plain to all, that he was an evil fellow.

Into Hell, will he surely fly...
All who attended the grave, will to all, not deny.

A dance was performed when he died...
By many sons who was gladdened, when he lied.

Where he lies, this new born, day...
Is hotter than the, Devil's way.

This man was well inspired...
To be hated, and undesired.