by Hugh McCallion The Noble Lord was sitting in his chauffeur-driven car, Complaining as per usual about the things that are. He blasted politicians, and the Pope was not immune, And chauffeur Mickey Riley knew his turn was coming soon. Because he knew His Lordship was inclined to vent his spleen, For twenty years he'd listened and never made a scene; And today was no exception when he heard His Lordship say: "At eighty five and ailing, I will soon be on my way." The Noble Lord leaned forward and poked the chauffeur's back: "Whenever I am dead and gone you're sure to get the sack. I hope my final journey is a smoother ride than this, Into the great Hereafter - at least that's one you'll miss." Though Riley sat impassively his mind was working fast. Said he unto the Noble Lord: "We can agree at last. Your final one-way journey should be smooth because it will Have one great advantage - it will all be down the hill!"
The end