Francisco Xavier Rivertalker,

Has left this world behind,

Gone off to meet his Maker,

Or whoever he might find.

Better known as Whiskey Frisco,

A writer, most his life,

According to Deborah Jean,

His last and seventh wife.

Born in backwoods Canada,

On the seventeenth of May,

He lived since nineteen fifty-one,

At least, 'til the other day.

A graduate of Harvard,

His doctorate from Yale,

But he spent his later years,

In the San Francisco jail.

He will surely be remembered,

For all the novels, he did write,

Old Man Oak and Yellow Roses,

and Why Mosquitoes Bite.

A month long Wake has been set,

At the Protagonistic Pub,

With dancing to follow afterwards,

At the local writer's club.

The funeral has been cancelled,

The burial has been denied,

For the latest news to come our way,

Is that he hadn't really died.

But still Francisco Rivertalker,

Would like everyone to know,

That you will be invited,

When he decides to finally go.

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Author guidance for This poem

You never know what's going to happen tomorrow, so be wise and prepare your obituary now. How would you like yours to read?

updated Dec 4 '08 by redhat