And never intended to write.

There’s a corpse in my back yard,
He’s looking kinda morose,
All forlorn, not that verbose,
Almost like he’d just won an Emmy award.

Who must this fellow be,
I pondered,
While I wandered,
And he stopped to take a pee.

Before I knew it, he was in my garbage can,
I saw him dig in awe,
At the remnants of what had once gone in my maw,
This shell of a rotting man.

My song sucks, yes sir,
I know it well,
I learned all I know from Poison the Well,
But at least I don’t wear fur.

The corpse came up with a coin,
I shiny piece of steel,
Which he probably needed for a meal,
And I realized he was poor, this cadaver.

Suddenly, I grabbed my encyclopedia set,
And found what I had to find,
While he munched an orange rind,
Something my buddy’s wouldn’t eat on a bet.

All of this left me with just one question,
Who the hell is Millard Fillmore, and why is his rotting corpse going through my garbage for change?

I just don’t know. Maybe I should ask Franklin Pierce,
That mummy next door,
Although his wife’s a whore,
And he swears he knows Ambrose Bierce.

---

I’m sure a few of you figured out the in-joke I was making to an old feature, but for those who didn’t, you can check it out here. It turns out that that feature is one of the most popular in Jux history, which is sad, because I never finished it. I really should do that soon. Until then, I fufilled my Millard Fillmore song obligation.