I hope Marion finds me dead in the year twenty forty two,
Out the backyard among the summer flowers out of view,
Sheíll be ninety six by then and me dead at a hundred and five,
Up to that time, I hope weíre both very much alive.
My grandkids and their kids can come and wave good bye,
As I get buried in Scarborough Pine Hills Cemetery nearby,
Near Don Sargent and Otto Maier and a few others,
Lived nearby on Tansley Avenue as if we were brothers.
No big deal except that then, I wonít be around any more,
Long deleted memories, here and there and many foreign shores,
Because Iím not very religious and believe that thatís that,
Iím finished and no one ever got a second kick at the cat.