Author Leon Gellert When my poor body died,-Alas! I watched it topple down a hill And sink beside a tuft of grass. I laughed like mad, and laughing still I bowed and thanked the bit of shell That set me free and made me glad. Then quietly, I strolled to Hell. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments