One fine day in the middle of the night,

Two dead boys walked together down the lane,

They walked separately to a live girl’s little house, over whom they often fought,

They knocked thrice on her door and walked right outside.

The two dead boys found the poor live girl lying motionless on her bed,

Skin as pale as ebony and lips as cold as fire; they lifted the poor live girl’s body from her bed,

With her body help between them on either side, the two dead boys walked to the cemetery,

There they found old friends they barely knew, playing cards with hands behind their backs.

The two dead boys bid farewell in greeting and walked up into the basement of a tomb that they called home,

They lay the lady up on their bed and watched her open empty eyes stare up at the floor,

The two dead boys quietly and calmly discussed in frantic yells what do to with the poor living girl,

For they knew all too well that they could not leave her breathing body lying on their bed.

The two dead boys agreed on what must be done;

The First dead boy thought that they should kill the poor living girl and keep her safe,

The Second dead boy thought they should keep her alive, and return her body to her little house,

They knew that dawn was soon approaching and that the moon was rising, that the clock was slowing and time was running out.

So the two dead boys picked up the poor live girl and left her where she lay,

They ran to her house as slowly as they could manage and knocked thrice on the door,

The lovely live girl opened the door and let the boys in with a smile on her miserable face,

The two bed boys lay on the live girl’s bed as the live girl watched the dawn come and the moon rise from a window with the curtains drawn.

AN: That was my version of my favorite poem, the original follows;

One fine day in the middle of the night,

Two dead boys got up to fight,

Back to back they faced each other,

Drew their swords and shot each other,

One was blind and the other couldn't see,

So they chose a dummy for a referee.

A blind man went to see fair play,

A dumb man went to shout "hooray!"

A paralyzed donkey passing by,

Kicked the blind man in the eye,

Knocked him through a nine inch wall,

Into a dry ditch and drowned them all,

One deaf cop on the beat heard the noise,

Came, and shot the two dead boys,

If you don’t believe me, my lie is true,

Ask the blind man,

He saw it too!

A paradoxical, dark, poem. What’s not to love?

I wondered, what makes dead boys fight? and wrote the poem above. Dead boys fight over girls, of course.