"He was always stealing from my garage,"
"Never a smile on her visage,"
"She slept with my brother the night she was wed,"
Sometimes you can't help but speak ill of the dead.
"She was too fat for one airplane seat,"
"He couldn't play cards without trying to cheat,"
"She was a brat with a capital 'B',"
Kindness is spared for the living, you see.
"The kid was drunk so he had it coming,"
"She just should've known not to keep her mouth running,"
"That boy was a prankster and deserved what he got,"
It's not like they'll hear you, they've been left to rot.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,
"We bought two caskets, she was so robust,"
At least this way they'll still be remembered,
Even if their body was so badly dismembered.
Choose wisely the speaker of your funeral speech,
Or you'll be remembered as a jerk or a leech,
Or if you are alive and have something to say.
Remember that you'll be that poor corpse some day.