Damn creditors:
When I am gone
And you are here,
Left with fewer remedies
To recover your claims,
The earth will chuckle
Through six feet of space
And I will have my final rest
And you may bother someone else
Who still expirates the foul air
And dispairs at the morning light
From your notices and summonses
And causes of futile action.
That chuckle will be my last,
Having no other need for laughter,
And you may ponder my passing
And find rest from your labors
In whatever dreary, desperate sewer in Hell
You may reap your reward.
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