WHEN THE ANGELS COME

When the angels come
to escort me
please let them all be
strapping chaps;
with not a tear among them
or a mournful tune of harps.
I want a band of birthday suits
and shiny polished pecs!
Don’t send old and grumpy Gabriel
to sing Abide With Me;
I’d far and rather hear
the Righteous sound of Fred,
singing I’m too sexy for my hearse.
©Cindy Taylor 2008

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17 thoughts on “WHEN THE ANGELS COME

  1. Oh…now that got me laughing out loud…it reminded me of the funerals in New Orleans in my country…since we must all go…we should have a choice of angels at least…very witty poem.

  2. Promise me one thing – if I die before you, will you please recite this at my sending off party (no funeral – you buggers have to party up a storm!!)?

  3. Pingback: MY BUCKET LIST « The only Cin

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