The Funeral Poem by Bob Gibson

Jim Mattison was a neighbor, through working life he sailed
my Dad his breath did labor, from chemicals inhaled
one day their paths met, a funeral to abate
for Jim it was a grave to dig, for Dad it was a mate

Dad stopped to cough and take a breath, but Jim with hardened shell
said! waste of time you going home I'll bury you as well!
in his prime I would have seen the twinkle in Dads eye
Jim! knew of this, and of dads health, he smiled! but with a sigh!

two old men! with swords to cross, is there any winner
bones that are six feet underground, a savior or a sinner
both are dead and Jim was buried in a plot that was berated
but Dad said no! he'll not bury me I want ter be cremated