The Death of Archibald Hatch
When he died,
An old fellow named Archibald Hatch,
Was sliced up,
By four doctors,
And put under glass.
They sectioned his brain,
And parts rarely rendered.
They sliced everything up,
Till he was completely dismembered.
The professor declared,
That old Archibald Hatch,
Would live on in the lab,
Embalmed and detached.
Students would come,
From all over the state,
And stare at old Archie,
Through thick, clear glass plates.
What Archie might think,
Was rarely discussed.
He signed on as a donor,
"In science I trust!"
So for years, chopped up Archie,
Was recorded on charts,
And bobbed in the brine,
Like pickled pig parts.
But even preserved,
In a jar full of brine,
Your pieces wear out,
In the passage of time.
So fresher cut parts,
From fresher dead donors,
Pushed Archie aside,
For fresher lab loaners.
And the jars and the sections,
Of old Archibald Hatch,
Were slid to the back,
For a fresher, new batch.
For years, under dust,
The pieces remained,
Unnoticed by all,
The jars dirty and stained.
Till the day the new dean,
Of the college declared,
That the lab was run down,
And must be repaired.
So students and teachers,
Removed the whole stash.
Including the jars,
Of old Archibald Hatch.
The decision was made,
To cremate Archie's cuts,
And into the oven,
They tossed all his guts.
In heaven, old Archie,
Just laughed at the sight.
Cause some of his parts,
Just never worked right.
"So I hope that the doctors,
Have learned how to fix,
A heart that was spastic,
And one eye that would twitch!"
"My bursitis was bad,
And my hearing was shot,
And the pain in my legs,
Had me drugged up a lot."
"But that's all behind me",
Old Archie declared.
Nursing a pina colada
In a comfy deck chair.
No longer in pain,
And feeling quite fine,
Archie chats with the ones
Who replaced him
In brine.
There's a lesson here,
I'd like to relate.
Good things do come,
To those who will wait!
copyright 2017, murphy
