To consign to Limbo is never a choice
Like devil’s democracy, it has no voice
When Limbo comes knocking, don’t fret or make haste
Instead be relaxed as the Reaper lays waste
Chuckle as hemp ropes make marks on youth’s throats
Before with a snap, no more chokes or limp croaks
Comfort the waiting, the ones left to mourn
For come the pale beauty, the dusty old dawn
I’m sure they won’t be a-choking no more.