poor old mr. jackson- his face an ashy grey
never could control us- though tried so hard each day
he went ahead and hung himself
as it now begins to rain
his head knocks out a steady beat
against the window pane
i guess he was at the end of his rope
he gave up completely- lost all hope
but as he hangs there now quite limply
from his nine knotted suspention
i know this time he surely has
our absolute attention.
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