An Un-dead Poem

A fun zombie poem.

It's hard to whistle when you're dead,

And your lips are loosened from your skin,

Tongue flapping sideways with the wind,

As your jaw has literally come unhinged,

And your eyeballs dangle from your head,

Inviting maggots to feast within.

Oh yes, it's hard to whistle when you're dead,

But not impossible ... Just ask Fred.