I suppose, when I am dead,
they’ll know what to expect of me –
my input and my output I’ll maintain
Consistency’s the key, you see,
to meeting expectations
And when I’m dead, it’s dead I will remain!
Nobody’ll be frustrated
if their birthday card’s belated
No more coffee catch-ups cancelled on the day
If the chores begin to pile
I won’t be resting all the while,
as others toil to clear them all away
When the day has not been easy
I won’t suddenly feel queasy,
abandoning my post amidst the rush
And when the kids are crazy
no-one will wonder if I’m lazy
when I still sleep but they are forced to hush
When the pressure starts to rise
They won’t see anguish in my eyes
(no need to fret about my mettle too)
And if I’m not right there
they’ll know it’s not that I don’t care
(If only I could show how much I do)
No
I’ll raise no more false hope
that makes it hard to cope
when my body doesn’t rise, but falls instead
Indeed
Contemplating final curtains
I can, at least, be certain
that I’ll be quite predictable when I’m dead!