"Curly, Moe, Larry, shemp..." Doin' the Mortal Coil Shuffle: A Constrained Necrologue

Curly, Moe, Larry, Shemp: each devolv'd to room temp.
The cartoonist Thom Nast wound up breathing his last.
Colin’s granddaddy Firth has departed this earth.
When shall you and/or me shuffle off this m. c.?

Codicologist Morse rides – behold! – a pale horse. 

Culture icon Joan Quarm, late last year, bought the farm. 
Mogul Friedrich (“Fritz”) Krupp found his number was up.
When shall you and/or me shuffle off this m. c.?

Mr. John Albert Macy’s now pushing up daisies.
One Solomon Phipps fin’lly cash'd in his chips.
My mate Morrison Waite simply slid off the plate. 
When shall you and/or me shuffle off this m. c.?

All (or most) of the Bysshes now sleep with the fishes. 
St. Christopher Wade? Made to drink the Kool aid.
Herr Hermanus van’t Hoff slowly exited off.
When shall you and/or me shuffle off this m. c.?

Rudi (jazz critic) Blesh went the way of all flesh. 
Ms. Elizabeth Baker en fin met her maker.
Li’l Abner’s Al Capp took that final dirt nap.
When shall you and/or me shuffle off this m. c.?

Couple Carl and Blanche Jost, grinning, gave up the ghost.
Poet Julia Ward Howe waved, then took her last bow.
Joseph Smith and his wives? All of them lost their lives.
When shall you and/or me shuffle off this m. c.?

Far-right-winger John Birch leaned, then fell off his perch.
Charles Caldwell McCabe? In the bosom of Abe. 
Both men -- E. and K Wynn (pop and son) -- packed it in.
When shall you and/or me shuffle off this m. c.?

Rufus, Tom and John Choates all donned pine overcoats.
Kicked the bucket did Boggs: J. S. G. popped his clogs.
Even Prosp Merimee, in the end, passed away.
When shall you and/or me shuffle off this m. c.?