An old man caught a lemming once
That was trying hard to die;
Before it finished its last plan,
He took it home to fry.
He flicked its little head right off,
Prepared it for the pan;
“Now his meat can serve some use,”
Thought the little man.
“He’d aimed to end up his own way,
But that don’t matter now;
This knife of mine worked just as good;
Besides he’ll do for chow.”
“No matter how you die, you’re dead;
There ain’t no doubt to that.
He chose to go; I helped him out.”
And he popped it in the fat.
(c) Edwin Kagin 1995