If I should die, my pancreas will give
New hope to some poor sod who's own's packed up,
My heart beat out so someone else can live
And smile to greet a spring-time buttercup
That I shall never see. But my eyes will
Since they may focus light unknown to me.
My kidneys (although I be dead) will still
Give some sad alcoholic leave to see
Another pub-crawl out (I'll not bet much
That they will last the course) My liver too
Is past its best, but still it is by such
Gifts that I'll live when my own life is through.
But not my willie - he will die with me
And rise in heav'n, if that should ever be.