Dylan Thomas' most famous poem, his villanelle "Do not go gentle", is often read out at funerals and memorial services; the final delusional punctuation mark to the uncompromising life everyone would like to think they lead.  Sadly, its potency has become diminished by its success and familiarity, so I wrote this poor effort as a pastiche (which I think might be a kind of nut ... or maybe the sort of Cornish pie Sean Connery would ask for) ...

Do Not Regale Me

Do not regale me with platitudes trite

when the boatman of Styx is in my pay,

when a wink from me would give you a fright.

Though sentiment may shine a rosy light

on the role I once played in nature's play,

do not regale me with platitudes trite.

Good God! Please don't -- though I believe you might --

o'er my open box play the song "My Way,"

when a wink from me would give you a fright.

Wild, drunk and angry, recall me in spite,

and if you kneel, it's for yourself you pray.

Do not regale me with platitudes trite.

Deaf men near graves will just ignore your plight,

gazing blindly down on stern stones of grey,

when a wink from me would give you a fright.

A eulogy is falsehood, mostly shite:

lazy lies, whitewash and clumsy cliche.

Do not regale me with platitudes trite,

when a wink from me would give you a fright.

                                                                                 (c)Frank Rooney