Last Words by “Slick”

(or a self / sung eulogy) Now, when I / die, dont you bury me On no lone prairie; And dont put me in no plain pine box (cause I left plenty cold cash!); And throw my cold butt in the deep blue see. Whatever you do, dont plant me / in no six feet of dirt; Just mash me, mash me, except for my dick, Which I want wrapped in a white / woman’s skirt. I dont want no preacher / man a-preaching Over me—cause I know where I am going. I dont want no tears, no flowers, No standing around and waiting / up / all hours. Just get a golden trumpet, and have Dizzy blow it. Cause I / wuz / Slick—and you damn well know it. No piano playing, no blues please; No moaning and groaning; Just lay me on the table, mash me Into my two-hundred-dollar suit, Red socks, black patent leather shoes, Polka-dot tie (make damn sure it’s silk— And dont forget it!) Take me out to my pink cadillac Prop me up / under the steering wheel, Tow me out to real high hill, Dig a hole—twenty feet long and twenty feet wide, Place a giant joint of reefer / weed by my side; Then leave me alone— And let me drive to hell in style!