Joe Blot

 

 

Joe Blot

 

Joe Blot, on the face of it, had it all:

Family, wealth, popularity, fame;

But sure as the mighty are bound to fall,

Misfortune, in mass battalions came,

And took all away, as if by design;

His house, his money, his children, his wife;

Relentlessly trashing everything fine,

Vindictively stabbing, twisting the knife;

Plundering stuff that makes life worth living;

Finally, even his health declined too;

Cancer, malignant and unforgiving,

Poisoned and spread till his organs were through,

And he died a tramp, barely recorded,

A hapless Job, yet far less rewarded.