Home > Poems > Death of a Butler

Death of a Butler

“Call that toast, it’s burnt right through!
I think you know what you must do.”
“Yes, I know,” the butler said,
And shot himself clean through the head.

His brains exploded, quite a mess,
Splattered over Madame’s dress.
Sir looked at butler, “Oh my God!
Clean this up, you lazy sod.”

Butler smiling weakly said,
“Sorry, Sir, I’ll soon be dead.”
He grabbed a cloth, and though he tried,
His eyes glazed over, then he died.

Categories: Poems
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