Would my Muskies come visit me if told the I was dying? I thought of that today and wrote a nice rhyming poem that has really poor rhythm, but bear with me. Here it is:

Dead By Saturday

I’ll be dead by Saturday, my dear,
So you better come quick.
You need to be here.

I’ll be dead by Saturday, my dearest.
When I take my last breath,
I do want you nearest.

I’ll be dead by Saturday, my love.
When I pass
It’s you I’ll be thinking of.

I’ll be dead by Saturday, my star.
So drive on up and don’t say
It’s too far.

I’ll be dead by Saturday, I swear!
Practice what you'll say as my life comes to a close.
I know you must care.

I’ll be dead by Saturday, my darling.
I can already feel myself
Slowly drifting...the angels are calling.

I’ll be dead by Saturday, my sweet sugar plum!
I’m not faking! I promise, it’s true.
When I’m gone, won’t YOU feel dumb!

I’ll be dead by Saturday, my dear,
So please come very soon.
I’m slipping away, I fear.

I feel so tired, so weak, so alone...
Why, why aren’t you here?
Call in the troops! They’ll bring you, I know.

Won’t you hold my hand as I leave, my dear?
For I’ll be dead by Saturday,
And that is ever so near!