Poor Uncle John.

He's gone, he's gone,

poor Uncle John:

should have sat down

to put his undies on.

One leg raised,

wobbly knee,

fell straight back

like a falling tree.

Fell straight back

and whacked his head,

whacked his head

on a hard sharp edge.

Totally stunned,

goggle-eyed,

bleeding freely,

carpet destroyed.

Long time lying there,

breathes his last,

striped underwear still

in his stiff white grasp.

What a way to go,

and so preventable:

would be downright funny

if not so lamentable.

So, please, let's all resolve:

no more circus tricks.

Let's all sit down

to put on those knicks.