There was a man, his name was Bob.

He came home injured from his job.

“Mugged” he said, “and bitten too”

His arm had turned black and blue!

"To the Hospital!" His wife did beg

"Nonsense, be gone, you old hag!

I'm quite all right...you'll all see"

And he settled down for a cup of hot tea.

He did his best to take care of the bite

Doused it in antibiotics, wrapped it up tight

He went to bed, no negative effects.

And no one suspected what would happen next…

Late at night, his wife awoke with a scream

The children thought she’d had a bad dream!

Neither one of the tots could have said

What this poor woman had found with her in bed!

His eyes were wide, his face was gaunt

His arms outstretched, the fingers taunt

His skin had turned a mottled gray

He filled the room with the smell of decay

And before Bob’s wife could make another sound

Not a bit of her was left to be found!

Suddenly, poor Bob found himself quite alone

His only company the sound of his moan

“This cannot do” our hero said

Or at least he would have, if he hadn’t been dead

He stumbled out of his humble abode

And lurched his way on up the road

He entered homes and knocked in doors

He tried in vain to reach second floors

Bob ate family, friends and neighbours

He searched for a correlation between race and flavours.

Bob couldn't believe his amazing luck

After a lifetime of being an amazing schmuck!

He was suddenly rewarded to feast with glee

A happiest ending: becoming a zombie.