Al Fredericksson

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Spike Milligan

This is a short poem I wrote the night I heard Spike Milligan had died.

Spike Milligan,
Our Milligoon,
Is Milligone.

Is Heaven prepared
For the like
Of Spike?

For angel-chorused Alleluias
Sung to the tune
Of the
Ying Tong Song,

As Spike,
Talking to the trees,
And walking backwards
For Christmas,
Falls once more into the water?

May you be at peace,
You tortured, perfect Loon,
And the world
Blow a cosmos-shattering raspberry,
To thank you
For your pomp-puncturing absurdity,
Great Spike Milligoon.

Al Fredericksson
28 February 2002