No Lament for Smiggy

Smiggy's no more, I should say, even less

For there never was much to commend

A withdrawn, insignificant sort of a chap

Not the kind you would choose to befriend

But we'd known him since schooldays, or maybe before

Omnipresent, but strangely unseen

A fringeling, an extra, a kind of spare cog

In life's randomly cruel machine

Not invited to parties, or asked 'round to play

Always last to be picked for the team

Peevish and uncharismatic

Destined not to have fun, it would seem

So when news reached these parts, that he'd ended it all

We were saddened, but hardly distressed

And in death, as in life, he was largely ignored

Little interest was even expressed

Strange to say though, I'd say, paradoxical too

But we'll miss him, a bit, now he's bought it

Though we never helped lighten his load, it transpires

He was one the gang, who'd have thought it?