I talked to Death the other day
While out on a summer's walk.
"Would you care," I heard him say
"To have a private talk?

There's a price for everything you see
For life and breath and space
It's what allows us all to be
But death you have to face."

'I'm busy now with much to do
Letters to write and post.'
"It won't take long," he quietly said,
"Nothing will be lost."

'Well, go on if you must.' I cried
Short of a quick reply.
"You'd better know," he softly sighed
"Tomorrow you're going to die."

'Preposterous! What a crazy thought.
I'm fit and well,' I said
'Take back the news you brought.
What put that in your head?'

"The price of death is high right now
There's a glut at heaven's gates.
Hell is overcrowded so
We had to increase the rates.
You were on the list a month ago
You've had some extra time
I'm sorry it's your turn to go
But now it's the end of the line."

'Not now please. I'm not ready
The price is much too high.
Though a little bit unsteady
I'm honestly not ready to die.'

"The price is right," death calmly said
"The time is opportune
But maybe unexpected
On such a lovely afternoon."