One took an axe and headed into the woods
His hand it slipped, the blade his leg did strike
The backbone snapped beneath a falling tree
It was but moss that heard his final sigh
The other took a boat and went to fish
But, tangled in the net, fell overboard
His cries for help were lost in morning mists
Alone he drowned and to the bottom sank
The third one very rarely ventured out
It was his task to write obituaries
Tonight he broke and wrote one to himself
His belt became his final festive tie