
There's amnesia in a hangknot,
And comfort in the ax,
But the simple way of poison will make your nerves relax.
	There's surcease in a gunshot,
	And sleep that comes from racks,
	But a handy draft of poison avoids the harshest tax.
You find rest on the hot squat,
Or gas can give you pax,
But the closest corner chemist has peace in packaged stacks.
	There's refuge in the church lot
	When you tire of facing facts,
	And the smoothest route is poison prescribed by kindly quacks.
Chorus:	With an *ugh!* and a groan, and a kick of the heels,
	Death comes quiet, or it comes with squeals --
	But the pleasantest place to find your end
	Is a cup of cheer from the hand of a friend.
		-- Jubal Harshaw, "One For The Road"
