Going To A Funeral Poem by Patrick O'Reilly

The sky is dismal and devastating:
Old Jack is dead and he’s gone.
And my hair is out of place.

So he won’t be walking through the meadows again,
And his poor wife is probably falling apart, poor creature,
But these shoes are scuffed
And what tie should I wear now,
The black or the royal blue?
Which says sombre and reflective?

I can't find my cufflinks.
Where are my cufflinks?

Poor old soul.
Do I have time to iron these slacks?
Appearances are so important.