The Dead Man’s Poem (Twas the Night before Christmas)
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the lab,
A dead body lay stiff and cold on the slab,
The curious public all jammed in the theater,
To witness justice be brought to a traitor
The instruments were laid by the table with care,
In hopes the anatomist soon would be there.
At last came the surgeon wearing an apron,
Full of blood splatters – oh what a sensation!
He wielded a knife and began to cut,
Into the breast bone and down through the guts.
Out came his liver, his lungs, then his heart,
It gave the whole audience quite a quick start!
Eventually the anatomization was done,
The spectators exited one-by-one.
The surgeon began to clean up the mess,
And decide which way to dispose of him best.
The condemned was then placed into a pot,
So the criminal’s flesh would be boiled, not rot.
When all was finished, and his bones were clean,
He was strung up and left there, to be gawked at and seen.
So to those who might think a life of crime is for them,
Consider the bodies and bones of the condemned.
Remember the surgeon with his apron and knife,
And thank God you are safe and secure in your life.
by Lindsey Fitzharris