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Poor Pam Is Dead

(my funeral song)

and Intimations of Mortality


 
Written a few weeks after my 80th birthday and in contemplation of my own mortality, but while I am still alive and hoping to stay that way for a while yet.
Some may think it is a bit morbid for me to write my own dirge. But, really, who could possibly write it as well, as full of irony , satire, and sarcasm ?
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Poor Pam Is Dead

by Pam Green, © 2025


POOR PAM IS DEAD

(to tune of Poor Jud is Daid, from Oklahoma)

Poor Pam is dead , at home in her own bed
In her sleep , feeling no distress or fright
A lifelong unbeliever , no religion to deceive her
"with Frans Kafka as my coach, I won't come back as a roach,
Just in case Pythagoras was right"

Poor Pam is slain, no thinking in her brain
The light from dying neurons has gone dark.
She is finally at peace, 'neath her blanket of fake fleece.
She'd been grieving just a smidge that there is no Rainbow Bridge
To rejoin Bouviers and Raiders of Lost Bark

Poor Pam has died, her adored dogs at her side.
Then they were taken off to safety by good friends.
They need not fear the Pound :
Great adopters will be found,
To give that loving care on which each life depends.

Poor Pam is dead, and as Will Rogers said
She'd have hoped to go where all her dogs have gone.
But if merit must be claimed , as the great Mark Twin proclaimed,
Perhaps she's gone with Bernard Shaw's Don Juan.

Poor Pam is dead, in sorrow or in rage,
Perhaps she was thinking "when Mozart was my age" ?
Or Byron's daughter Ada, the first programming ace,
Or Rosalind Franklin who proved the helix' space,
Satirized as "Rosie", should have shared that Nobel Prize.
or "Tom Lehrer was well aware Nicolai didn't plagiarize"
From such useless speculation, let us wisely disengage.

Envoi :

Prin-cess, I beg Death for one final boon
Though I'll go no more roving by pale light of moon :
"Stop for me later and not too soon
Though there's limited pleasures life still as to give
At least for the present, I might as well live,

I must die but my words can live
My web site humor and wisdom give.
While princes and poets, their final lot
Is to die and be buried in earth to rot,
I'll be cremated, my final joke
To rise forever in upwards smoke."


"Intimations of Mortality"

("Intimations of Immortality" by William Wordsworth)

Once you have died died, you can't get Satisfied
you can have no Expectations to regain youth's strength and pride.
when into ashes youthful trust, and offered Diamonds gone to Rust
Sad words of pen or tongue : we can't stay Forever Young.
so take that Road Less Traveled , don't put it off too late,
or that option may get cancelled by a Simple Twist of Fate.
Go Sail Beyond the Sunset, and traverse Endless Night
Imagine-ing what lies beyond that third star to the right.


footnotes for Poor Pam Is Dead

foonotes for Intimations of Mortality

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site author Pam Green copyright 2003
Pam's e-mail address has changed tips on site use
created 10/14/2025 revised 10/15/2025
return to Welcome page go to the Farewell page with links to other sites