DEAD MAN'S CLOTHES

When the call comes the vultures begin,
He’s barely cold yet they let themselves in.
His possessions collected, some kept, some thrown.
It’s the quickest clear up I’ve ever known.
Dividing the wealth, disregarding will making,
Why wait for formality when it’s there for the taking?
If only they could see just what they were doing.
The man’s barely dead, yet his things are still moving.

But I see what’s happening if no-one else knows,
They’ll go back to their lives wearing dead man's clothes.

The funeral was small, a quiet affair.
None of the vultures could fly themselves there.
They’d got what wanted, the money, the jewels,
Shown their true colours, the selfish old fools.
His things were divided, house put up for sale.
Nothing else left, except a cheque in the mail.
No sign of the vultures now they’ve conned him and tricked him.
But they’ll all be back for their next dying victim.