_Did you ever stop to think as the hearse rolls by,_
_That sooner or later both you and I_
_Will travel along in the selfsame hack,_
_With never a worry about coming back?_
_They’ll lift you out and they’ll lower you down,_
_The men with their shovels will stand around;_
_They’ll throw in some dirt and they’ll throw in some rocks,_
_And it will fall with a thump on your old pine box._
_The worms crawl out and the worms crawl in,_
_They’ll crawl all over your mouth and chin;_
_They’ll call in their friends and their friends’ friends, too,_
_And you’ll look like hell when they’re through with you._
_Such Is Life_