Class of '76

When I think of my halcyon days,
Precise details are often a haze,
But I recall only too clearly,
The ends of those that I held 'dearly' -
All unerringly snapped up by 'fate',
All with endings I now shall relate:

It has often been called 'a surprise',
That poor Henry was eaten by flies -
He marched off to the woods with some pomp,
But got 'stuck', so it seems, in a swamp.
Poor old chap couldn't find a way free -
For on top of dear Henry, was me.

In a 'wholly unlikely' event,
Rolling into the Thames Horace went.
After flapping a moment or two,
Horace gurgled, and vanished from view.
To be certain - I just had to wait -
The alarm wasn't raised 'til 'too late'.

In the last of his many mistakes,
It was I that helped fix Ronnie's brakes,
As he shot down the hill with great speed,
I 'forgot' to tell Ron to take heed -
His old bike didn't stop, as he found,
And the wall that he met held its ground.

It is "none of my business", it's said,
That young Freddie Mulhavers is dead.
As though really it's totally fine
That the nudge which dispatched him was mine.
Freddie skidded, then rallied, then fell,
Then departed head-first down a well.

Utter calm when being struck by a bus,
Was the thing I admired about Gus.
He might not have been had he forseen
Going under a number nineteen.
Gussy flattened out nicely, like dough,
But sadly that was the end of the show.

So you see my old mates are all dead,
Though their endings live on in my head,
The lesson which I finally learnt -
In my mind now indelibly burnt:
That a carefully placed push or shove,
Brings a finish to one you don't love.