It's Most Amusing Poem by Linda Hepner

It's most amusing now I'm dead
and not a fiery noxious head,
that all acquaintances will growl
that I was false and fake and foul.

You have to know, they'll say with shrugs,
That those ferocious slaps and hugs
forced us to nod because we feared
to find our characters besmeared.

Now if I'm not the fiery sort,
But sweet to all, no trouble, short,
Then they will say, you have to know
She wasn't really white as snow,

And there are stories we could tell,
But if we do we'll go to hell,
So let's just say she was okay
But if you promise not to say

Who told you, I'm the one who knows,
She's one who goes where gossip blows,
No angel she, in fact a bitch,
But no more, I can't be a snitch.

So if I'm nasty, if I'm not,
It makes no difference; once the pot
Is burned and useless, wield your wit!
I will not care one tiny bit!

LRH
10.16.13