BEASTLY TALES

FUNEREAL RITES

To pepe Valesco the sea smelled of Frangipani,
Reminding him of his old granny,
“She used to use Lavender water,”
“Splashing it copiously over her, and her daughter.”
His granny, feeling ancient, had got in a miff,
And walked precariously close to a cliff.
“When I die, I don’t want anything shoddy,”
“I want to supervise what occurs to my body!”
“Preferably I’d like to be buried alive,”
“So that my funeral I could supervise,”
As it did turn out, in the end,
Her eventual demise, her wish did transcend.
She walked along the shore cliff, one tropical eve,
In the twilight the pathway did deceive,
She tripped and stumbled, and over she went.
An opportunity, wanting a fine funeral, heaven sent.
In the clutch of the tropical sea below,
On those rocks, that had delivered death’s blow,
She was washed most diligently,
Then wrapped in kelp, gratis, from the sea.

The sea swept her out, into the bay,
Where the village of Macino languorously lay.
Laying back in a dignified supine pose,
She bobbed to the shore in waves’ ebb and flows.
Pepe Valesco, walking that Caribbean beach,
Noted her arrival, when just out of reach,
“Caramba, it looks like my gran!”
He was, indeed, a most eloquent man!