In a sweet country town, in a quiet little street,
Lived a long, married couple named Iris and Pete,
In a picturesque cottage with a brass doorbell,
They lived a good life and lived it well.
A mother of two and grandchildren of four,
A fulfilled life that needed no more,
A dog and cat, made domestic bliss,
And nothing at all seemed remotely amiss.
But beneath that smile, was an angry heart,
That kept a score, right from the start,
Mean with money and mean with his gifts,
And Pete's endless flirting, caused many a rift.
Lying awake to his endless loud snore,
The burping and flatulence, adding to the score,
His sporting shows that were such a bore,
But his gambling addiction was the final straw.
So she plotted with care and she plotted with time,
To be alone, through stealth or crime,
To inflict a blow, a fatal maim,
And own the lot, was her final aim!
But what weapon of choice? Perhaps a gun?
Or take Pete out for a deadly run?
Poison perhaps? Sparkling cyanide?
Or sink his boat, at sea's high tide?
And behind Pete's smile and carefree ways,
He'd too had enough of tedious days,
To live his life, on his own terms,
Have the house and boat, he was quite firm!
Her shopping and spending drove him mad,
And her endless nagging was just as bad,
Do this, do that, put up the seat!
And her annoying friends, he was forced to greet.
To have a beer, to have a bet,
To watch his shows, without her fret,
To this end, he had formed a plot,
One dose of poison and he'd own the lot!
The deadly night at last drew near,
She made a curry to go with his beer,
Her favorite book he bought her to read,
Accompanied by a cup of mead.
Of each other's plans they were unaware,
And ate and drank without a care!
But by the end of that fateful night,
Both had succumbed to poison's bite!
The paramedics came, the police as well,
An autopsy ordered, the results did tell,
Double-suicide was the final claim,
To die together, their romantic aim!