Oh Lord, I pray thee do not let me die
In a bed with sheets and blankets piled upon
And with dripping noses about me.
Nay, smite me someday without warning,
That headlong I fall into the forest some place
Where no one will come around nosing.
I well know the forest, I am it's son,
It will not deny my humble request
To die on its cranberry bog.
Thus will I give back without word of complaint
My mighty cadaver to it's creatures all,
To the crows, the rats, and the flies.