poet John Wathen

John Wathen


Some people think that the cure for all ills,
is a tumbler of scotch and a handful of pills.
Others swear to end your life,
you need a nice hot bath and a good sharp knife,
I know that messy but I must confess, when your dead,
sod the mess.
Some people reckon to use a rope, but,
you must get the dropp just right,
or you'll just swing there,
until you end your life.
Now I have found the perfect way,
if I want to end my life,
its not a rope, knife or dope,
that will be the end of me.
I want to be shot by a jealous husband
at the age of ninety three.

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Poem Edited: Monday, May 2, 2011

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