Old Mort

  Death dreams gently of sharpening his scythe.

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  A single clean swipe to take your life.

  One world to the next; the subtle knife.

  Just a gentle nod as he sends you on

  Consummate professional since time began.

  Does not care for your word or deed,

  Nor darkest action in hour of need.

  To the reaper all the same,

  He does not judge, he does not blame.

  Born of duty, on he send,

  Bringing peace, at the end.