Row, row, row your boat

try and go upstream

puffing and panting and raving and ranting

enough to make you scream.


Pull, pull, pull the cord

make that motor start

coughing and fluffing and coming to nothing

you cry and clutch your heart.



"Clear! Clear! Clear!" he shouts

hits you with a jolt

flitter and flutter and feel your pulse stutter

it's all the river's fault.


Rock, rock, rock your chair

stare into the blue

doctors and nurses and needles and curses

it seems your life is through.


"Please, please, please" they cry

"tell us of your will"

kissing and hugging and fishing and bugging

they put you through the grill.


Laugh, cough, laugh it off

wheeze your final breath

beeping and sleeping no time to be weeping

you gladly welcome death.



Graeme King