_Worrying About Death_
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I was worrying about death and feeling a little down,
So I went to the circus to laugh at a clown.
But a fortune teller's tent I passed on the way,
So I stopped at her table to hear what she'd say.
She promised me long life, beauty and health,
A car and a family, and surrounded by wealth.
I was delighted to think that I'd live to be old,
And the prospect of money made me all the more bold.
But I couldn't help listening to the cynic within,
So I went to a doctor for a second opinion.
He gave me a check-up and charged me a fee,
And said "Not to worry, you look healthy to me."
Then I visited my parents and gave them a kiss
And when I'd finished my story they said I'd be missed;
They didn't know if I'd really live long,
But they would prefer me to die after they'd gone.
My dilemma was growing - I was less and less sure
About when to be expecting Death's knock upon the door.
I'd sit up all night with fear in my soul,
Just waiting and listening to hear that bell toll.
I was feeling so bad that I went to a shrink:
He said I should come back at least once a week.
He diagnosed my illness but said "There's no hope
Of me being able to cure you before making you broke."
Yet I have to admit I still wasn't convinced,
So I went to the church and spoke with a priest.
He laughed when I told him, and said "Yes, you're right:
You are going to die... though I don't think tonight."
He said it was common to worry about death,
Because it happens to all of us; even the best.
The secret, he said, is to remember that this
Is part of the journey, and not all that there is.
Spudley Strikes Again