Bob was a very dear friend,
He gave me joy when no one else could.
Listening to me spill out my woes
Without judgement or scorn, what a dear.
He said nothing as I took the knife to his head,
And cracked his neck, he understood.
His guts spilled on the floor,
But there was little blood
He was always so considerate that way.
I shall always remember Bob
Especially as I puree his remains, which stain my hands,
And add the puree to soups and breads - how delicious!
So rest in peace my dead Bob, you make such delightful bread.
I hope others will enjoy you as much as I,
For you are now homemade and really yummy.
R.I.P. Robert 'Bob' Pumpkin
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