An exile held on Devil’s Isle,
I’ll trek tonight The Final Mile.
But first they’ll serve me one last meal --
for one who fasts, a major deal.
For starters, there's a pewter pail
they'll fill to full with golden ale.
Then, garnish'd with fresh lemon peel,
some jellied-eel-topp'd eland heel.
Before I tread the dead man's aisle,
before's engaged the voltage dial,
I'm guarantee'd my choice of veal
or roasted rack of Zeeland seal.
As sounds the dinner bell’s last knell,
“I’ve room for Jello,” I shall yell.
I'll then make known my final will:
“I've had, in sev'ral ways, my fill.”
I’ll trek tonight The Final Mile.
But first they’ll serve me one last meal --
for one who fasts, a major deal.
For starters, there's a pewter pail
they'll fill to full with golden ale.
Then, garnish'd with fresh lemon peel,
some jellied-eel-topp'd eland heel.
Before I tread the dead man's aisle,
before's engaged the voltage dial,
I'm guarantee'd my choice of veal
or roasted rack of Zeeland seal.
As sounds the dinner bell’s last knell,
“I’ve room for Jello,” I shall yell.
I'll then make known my final will:
“I've had, in sev'ral ways, my fill.”
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