We know not what . . .

W

You will find no statue for I was

Not great

I lived my simple life according to

Fate

As for all the rest . . .

W

The words of wit that I once

Writ

Will be analyzed & determined

To be nothing but

S--t

It matters not . . .

W

But somewhere in the branches of a

Noble fir

You may yet hear my spirit 

Stir

For in the end . . .

W

Someone for no rhyme or reason

Will ask

Whatever happened to his

Urn and ash

We know not what . . .

W

As for all the rest it matters not

For in the end we know not what . . .

W

Written by: Robert Tallent McDowell

01/24/2004