Old Albert was a fairground man.
He had it in his blood.
He always chose the fastest rides
to go on if he could.
But then one day he passed away
whilst whirling on the waltzer,
but if you thought that was the end,
that surmise would be false, sir.
We found a crumpled, grubby note
in Albert’s inside pocket.
A message from beyond the grave,
it was designed to shock. It….
said “When I am dead and gorn,
though I want to be cremated,
that scattering of ashes stuff
is greatly over-rated.
I don’t want chucking off a cliff
On a wet and windy day.
I’ve always been a drifter
and I’d simply blow away.
Just drop my ashes on my rug,
then clean up with my Dyson.
I just want one last Cyclone ride.
No need to ask me why, son”.
And so we did what he had asked,
And it somehow seemed to me,
That out there in the ether,
Old Albert’s voice went “WHEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeee…….!”
.
.