A Lament for Bob

Bob got sliced

      and diced

           and chopped

and his life was quickly stopped.

I don't know what thing him enticed

      to chase after a group of mice.

But that he did, the silly fool,

      thinking it would make him cool.

He ran under a gleaming axe;

      not just one, but stacks of packs!

He hit a shelf, and down they came,

      like a storm of hard, sharp, rain.

He didn't mean to, you have to see,

      he did it inadvertently.

It was a daft and dangerous act,

      but it occurred, and that's a fact.

Perhaps it's because he was so fat,

      from eating enough to feed a cat.

He'd eat enough in every day

      to feed said cat for all of May!

This wasn't how I thought he'd die,

      chopped to pieces like a pie.

I thought heart disease would get him first,

      or that his stomach perhaps would burst.

His grave took me a while to dig,

      because, you see, it was so big.

Six feet long by twelve feet wide;

      enough to fit a man and bride.

I'm struggling now to find a rhyme,

      and I'm running out of time,

And so I'll end how I began

      to tell you of this foolish man:

Bob got sliced

      and diced

and chopped

     in B&Q, the DIY shop!