Abstract
Let me die a youngman’s death not a clean & inbetween the sheets holywater death not a famous-last-words peaceful out of breath death When I’m 73 & in constant good tumour may I be mown down at dawn by a bright red sports car on my way home from an allnight party Or when I’m 91 with silver hair & sitting in a barber’s chair may rival gangsters with hamfisted tommyguns burst in & give me a short back & insides Or when I’m 104 & banned from the Cavern may my mistress catching me in bed with her daughter & fearing her son cut me up into little pieces & throw away every piece but one Let me die a youngman’s death not a free from sin tiptoe in candle wax & waning death not a curtains drawn by angels borne ‘what a nice way to go’ death
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