Sunday At The Cemetery Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

1 Here lies our country's biggest nerd,
his death was a surprise.
He never said a nasty word
nor anything too wise.

2 Aunt Lilly filled this wooden box,
though bulging was the lid.
They did attach some extra locks
it's true, they really did.

3 This stone stands here to let you know
that I have now departed.
The Lord did say I had to go
last Tuesday, when I farted.

4 Place flowers here, upon my grave
and always bring a rose.
The fragrance seeps into my cave
and entertains my nose.

5 You see the writing on this stone
it tells you I have died.
What's left of me is only bone
the beetles ate my hide.

6 My death was surely premature
no one should die at thirty.
For my disease there was no cure,
this place is damp and dirty.

7 The road was icy, I was pissed
I hit a wall of steel.
The Reaper had me on his list
and there was no appeal.

8 Here lies the butcher of Berlin,
he chopped up little guys,
existed in perpetual sin
and always ordered fries.

9 My name is Wyatt and I drew
much faster with my gun.
My bullet met a gust that blew,
thereafter I was done.

10 This photo shows that I was cute,
had assets where it mattered.
Just once I jumped without a shute,
then kissed the ground and shattered.

11 I like it in this six-foot hole,
it's almost like a riot.
Yet to escape has been my goal,
a ticket? I would buy it.

12 The birds sing lovely every day
but nights they go to sleep.
It makes us dear departed gay
but when it's dark we weep.

13 A tree has sent its little roots
into my wooden box.
Has entered my black leather boots
and ripped my cotton socks.

14 The pipe you see, my little friend
is not a silly joke.
It guarantees that past the end
I CAN light up and smoke.

15 The photo on this marble slab
was taken by wife Beth.
Developed by the Photo Lab
but snapped before my death.


16 So good to see you here again
I have a big complaint.
A killer by the name of Ben
lies next to me, the saint.

17 This automatic, modern stone
computerized, connected,
means you can talk to me by phone
and I don't feel neglected.

18 The preacher talked about my life
as if I were a saint,
he's living with my lovely wife.
At peace, my friend, I ain't.

19 I greet you, Visitor and thank
your soul for saying 'Hi',
but pardon me for being frank:
You stay here long, you die.

20 Please note, all those who visit me
the flowers that you bear
should come from a good nursery
not from the Discount Fair.

21 We bodies do have certain needs
so kindly pay attention.
Can't stand those parasitic weeds
I thought I'd make a mention.

22 When lightning strikes you are in bed
while we are scared down under,
and don't forget, though we are dead
we still can hear the thunder.

23 Here lies, at peace a man named Brian
he loved the Kalahari,
one day he met a hungry lion
it was his last Safari.

24 I rest in peace, forevermore
though missing is my torso,
I did get angry at a boar,
the boar did even more so.