They have put Uncle Jon
in a funny old room,
when I asked them what for,
they said it was his tomb,
and I simply could not fathom why.
So I crawled on inside,
though I was not allowed,
there I saw his gaunt face,
poking out from a shroud,
and no sound came from him, not a sigh.
And it didn't feel right,
he looked just like a doll,
and his skin was all grey,
like they'd sucked out his soul,
when I saw it, I started to cry.
They have told me since then,
it was Jon's corpse I saw,
I did not realise since
I'd not seen death before,
I'd grow used to it as years went by.
I have seen bodies since,
even piles, or a throng,
but there's one tiny thing,
that still seems very wrong.
Uncle stood. Shouldn't all corpses lie?
YOU ARE READING
Never told Nursery Rhymes
PoetryAre these the sort of things you like, my dear? the stories and the rhymes that make you shake? are you the sort who seeks darkness and fear? I surely hope you are, for your own sake. In here you'll meet the fear who has a face, in here you'll feel...