Rudyard Kipling
The Undertaker’s Horse
[Intro]
The eldest son bestrides him
And the pretty daughter rides him
And I often meet him mornings on the Course;
And there kindles in my bosom
An emotion chill and gruesome
As I canter past the Undertaker's Horse

[Verse 1]
Neither shies he nor is restive
But a hideously suggestive
Trot, professional and placid, he affects;
And the cadence of his hoof-beats
To my mind this grim reproof beats:
"Mend your pacе, my friend. I'm coming. Who's the next?"

[Verse 2]
Ah! Stud-brеd of ill-omen
I've watched the strongest go—men
Of pith and might and muscle—at your heels
Down the plantain-bordered highway
(Heaven send it never be my way!)
In a lacquered box of jet upon dark wheels

[Verse 3]
Answer, somber beast and dreary
Where is Brown, the young and cheery?
Smith, the pride of all his friends and half the Force?
You were at that last dread stalk
We must cover at a walk
Bring them back to me, O Undertaker's Horse!
[Verse 4]
With your mane unhogged and flowing
And your curious way of going
And that businesslike black crimping of your tail
Even with Beauty on your back, Sir
Pacing as a lady's hack, Sir
What wonder when I see you I turn pale?

[Verse 5]
It may be you wait your time, Beast
Till I write my last bad rhyme, Beast—
Quit the sunlight, cut the rhyming, drop the glass—
Follow after with the others
Where some dusky heathen smothers
Us with marigolds in place of English grass

[Verse 6]
Or, perchance, in years to follow
I will watch your plump sides hollow
See Carnifex (gone lame) become a corpse—
See old age at last o'erpower you
And the station pack devour you
I'll chuckle then, O Undertaker's Horse!

[Outro]
But to insult, jibe, and jest I've
Still the hideously suggestive
Trot that hammers out the unrelenting text
And I hear it hard behind me
In whatever place I find me:
"Sure to catch you soon or later. Who's the next?"