The barrel

he lives in a barrel

the barrel most foul

emptied of spirits

to make you crow and to howl

the wood of the barrel

has drunk it all dry

at least that's his claim

he speaketh a lie

his liver gave notice

and told him good bye

he sits in his wasting

and wonders to himself why

"I've lived when I fancied

didn't fancy a lot

I worked for a living

and a living I sought

but happy is fleeting

its lasting all for naught

what good is working

if from it life can't be bought?"

he lives in a barrel

the barrel most foul

emptied of his spirit

no crowing, not a howl

it lays in the bottom

of a six feet deep hole

the barrel took his body

yet the spirits took his soul