There it lay before me,
The unopened book,
What treasures did it hold.
Written by a funny man
It must be full of wit,
To raise a laugh from me.
I started to read the words,
The words of poetry
Written by this Goon,
And as I read I was drawn,
Drawn deeper into sadness,
As this man who made me laugh,
Made me cry.
Not tears of laughter,
But tears of despair.
There it lay before me,
The unopened book,
Now read throughout,
Showing how sad
That this man of humour
Had been in his life.