Here lie Rob’s bits and pieces
Don’t dig him up, - beware diseases!
Buried at last, out of the way
Quiet for once – nothing to say
We chose this spot to lay him out.
Ten tons of hardcore, or there about
will hold in him down, that’s for sure,
in his steel lined box ‘neath the M4
Don’t disturb what’s left of him
(not much really, most's in the bin)
In case you invoke the poets curse
of verbal diarrhoea and an empty purse
Sailing to windward
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hardcore-2/
