The Kicking of Buckets, and How It is Done

In case a brown recluse spider should come to call on you and with her magical spells weave for you mystic sleep—

In the event that any sharks should smell your yummy blood and render you a permanent fixture of the deep—

Lest some great venerable tree should fall full upon your pointy head and leave you feeling just a little flat—

Or a once-dormant volcano barf its hot majestic load of smoking lava directly onto the brim of your jaunty hat—

Should any untoward or fearsome thing befall you or a tragedy untimely bump you off, I’d feel so sad and even a little guilty somehow

That in my concern for you and to prevent your facing any such future griefs, I feel it’s best that I help you to kick the bucket Now.