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Poem

twas a cold and cloudy day
nippy in nature with trees in sway
that time in winter when days were short
the kind of day when a grave digger 
would take a snort
to warm the bones, so to speak
a few more snorts to make it neat
but dig the grave ready for the next day
and the grave digger would earn his pay
it never bothered him that he made a living 
digging graves
sometimes he wondered why people were afraid
it's just a place where dead bodies are laid
as long as people are dying 
there's money to be made
on his way home singing a song
living in a world where nothing was wrong
or so it seemed
but while he was walking'
one of the thorny briers latched
on to one of his shoe latches
and in one step the bow was gone
unknowingly the grave digger
kept moving along, singing his song
like nothing was wrong
unaware that he could slip
never minding that he could trip
the old grave digger singing his song
without a thought that something was wrong
he reached in his pocket
for a pipe that was'nt there
and was sure  that he had droped it
somewhere back there
his search was so intense 
it took him all the way back to the grave
but just before he got there
he steped on his shoe string
there was nothing he could do
falling head long into the grave
where a broken neck was waiting
and also his pipe laid
so we'll end this story like Esop ends his
there is a moral to the story
for all the growing kids
smoking is bad for you

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