The Funny Bloke

I had a mate who had an unusual sense of humour They call it black humour for what it is We were putting a suicide in the morgue It was a fatal gunshot wound to the head As I looked through to him I spotted him Through the ear that was left He was making faces at me Another time we were loading a body up And he said “You take the feet” But there was only one leg left and he laughed It sounds strange now particularly for others You know, sometimes it was the only way That we were able to get through the day. © Paul Warren Poetry