Gentlemen,
I have seen a thing most gross,
Gross yet sweetly so I must say,
More than I have before seen,
In my woefully wretched life,
Of horrid sightings and imaginations.
A man, gentlemen,
Laid au naturel to the toes,
On the cold coroner's table.
Open skull, cold brain mass,
Hanging off the funiculus,
A riveting and breathtaking sight.
Disturbingly provocative,
That a structure once perfect,
Layd there with ribs cut out,
Wrenched open to the sides,
Guts drawn from the cavum,
Hollow from the neck to the groin.
A human puzzle,
His ordure wrung out,
Drained into a bucket,
Bits inclosed in tubes,
Prods, picks here and there,
To ascertain how the fellow conked.
Sad, gentlemen,
How the fellow's stitched,
Viscus, his bowels and all,
Stuffed inside a defunct shell,
A body prettified and decked out,
One last time, one last and out in honor.