Claude Poem by Phil Soar

I knew a man named Claude who diced with death
Each day he preformed tricks that strained his breath
He would leap off buildings into the lagoon
Whilst people watching called him a buffoon
Until one day he landed on a rock
The noise we heard was something like a 'WHOCK'
Like something from a Batman episode
He lay there in a daze, all comatose
However, he survived his latest trick
And tried again next day, Oh what a prick
This time he killed himself and is no more
Poor old Claude, now buried 'neath the floor