It's been a good year for death

It's been a good year for death 

He's been busy busy busy 

Killing all the bees 

All the bees all the plants 

All the flowers and fish 

All the caterpillars and the women 
who were hugging xmas trees 

It's been a good year for death 

Definitely one of his best 

Not in terms of numbers harvested 

But the quality of his reaping 

The way he hung some by the neck 

And left the loved ones weeping 

He ought to win a medal 

He takes the golden biscuit 

Not a stone unturned in heaven 

In his quest for the apocalyptic 

It's been a good year for death 

Even though there's less disease 

There's so many terminal breaths 

A-floating on the breeze 

How many ways his clients died

Some were drowned in rivers 

Some committed suicide 

Some just burst their livers 

Some were burned alive 

Some were simply cudgeled 

Some were stabbed and murdered 

Some succumbed to freezing cold 

Others disappeared and were never heard of
Some just rot like bread until they're dead 
Then they turn to mould  

The ways to switch the light off 

Vary a little from nation to nation 

In Sweden He tends towards rape and pillage 

And the corpse can be subject to exhumation 

In Russia He plumps for a plane crash into a village 

Thus doubling the potential for annihilation

It's been a good year for death 

He's becoming a major player 

He's culled the young 

The good the sad 

But He did create an orphanage for children

By ploughing a lorry into their mums and dads  

Wherever He pops up the crowds all roar 

But He leaves them bereft in tears 

And begging for more 

It's been a good year for death 

and famine 

and pestilence  

And war. 

Martin Cooke 

Christmas Day, 2016.

Moscow