_________________________________________ / There's amnesia in a hangknot, And \ | comfort in the ax, But the simple way | | of poison will make your nerves relax. | | | | There's surcease in a gunshot, | | | | And sleep that comes from racks, | | | | But a handy draft of poison avoids the | | harshest tax. You find rest on the hot | | squat, Or gas can give you pax, But the | | closest corner chemist has peace in | | packaged stacks. | | | | There's refuge in the church lot | | | | When you tire of facing facts, | | | | And the smoothest route is poison | | prescribed by kindly quacks. Chorus: | | With an *ugh!* and a groan, and a kick | | of the heels, | | | | Death comes quiet, or it comes with | | squeals -- | | | | But the pleasantest place to find your | | end | | | | Is a cup of cheer from the hand of a | | friend. | | | \ -- Jubal Harshaw, "One For The Road" / ----------------------------------------- \ \ \ \ \ _\^ \ _- oo\ \---- \______ \ )\ ||-----|| \ || ||


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