He’s shuffled off this mortal coil
Gone to a better place
Pushing up daisies in a field
Gone with pomp and grace

Negatively living
He exists in a past tense
Gone to meet his maker
Will not be coming hence

No longer using oxygen
Of food he’s gone right off
Walking with his ancestors
His heart has had enough

If he was dying by degrees,
Full circle he has reached
His bucket well and truly kicked
His whale of life, beached

If you want my real opinion
If you truly want it said
I’ll break it to you gently
I’m afraid I think he’s dead!