Past His Deadtime

Unsteady, not thriving, he dragged
Steps leaden, alive, but half-fagged
The toxin was glowing
The clock ticks, keeps going
Till 'Dead On Arrival' he's tagged.


Edmond O'Brien races against time in D.O.A. (Rudolph Maté; 1950).

The Right Snuff

He's tough, but it's late, and he's tired
And suffers a fate undesired
A ragged farewell
The tagline from hell
Enough with the wait, he's expired.


Edmond O'Brien is stamped D.O.A. (Rudolph Maté; 1950).

Unhappy Hour

In his highball a mickey was slipped
But why was he picked for the crypt?
So he sped around town
Then dropped dead, and fell down
Poor guy! Dirty trick got him R.I.P.ped.

Edmond O'Brien downs a spiked drink in D.O.A. (Rudolph Maté; 1950).

Hurry Rundown

Hungover? That booze had a kick
Laid low, not just woozy, but sick
For your killer you search
Willy nilly, you lurch
There's no time to lose--tick...tick...tick...

 Before he dies, Edmond O'Brien must find out who "murdered" him in D.O.A. (Rudolph Maté; 1950).

Ed On Arrival

The drug he's been given will kill him
He's buggered, won't live, it'll chill him
Can he catch his own killer
In this patchy noir thriller?
This struggle makes riveting fillum.

David Cairns


Edmond O'Brien stars in D.O.A. (Rudolph Maté; 1950), film noir that ends with a bang.

IT's in the Bag

On Christmas, alas and alack,
A grisly and ghastly attack!
There are gifts that keep giving
This one's miffed, and still living
Ol' Kris is harassed by his sack!


Thanks to LimerWreckers David Cairns ans Donald Benson for their help in spreading the holiday jeer. Here's wishing a healthy and happy holiday season to one and all!

Please, Sir, I Want Some Moreau

When he's up to his elbows in leopard
This wild pup sure as hell won't play shepherd
But this dog's had his day
Demagogue won't hold sway
They all sup on the fellow, unpeppered.

David Cairns


The beast-men take their revenge Dr. Moreau (Charles Laughton) in Island of Lost Souls (Erle C. Kenton; 1932).

Martha, Martha, Martha

She's nasty, she schemes and obsesses
And ghastly are dreams she confesses
Awaiting her fate
She's fatal to date
Her past is a scream she supresses.

Kirk Douglas,Van Heflin, and Barbara Stanwyck in The Strange Love of Martha Ivers (1946).

Over and Donne

The die cast, the hour late, I'm no fun
And it's fast to my fate I will run
A peculiar goth gal
I'm so ghoulishly pale
While I last I won't wait in the sun.



Jacqueline Gibson (Jean Brooks) waits out her days in The Seventh Victim (Mark Robson; 1943). The film opens with the quote from John Donne, no doubt the touch of producer Val Lewton.

Out of the Fast Lane

You'd run but you know you can't hide
Your punishment won't be denied
No wedding bells loom
You're heading for doom
You're done. Time to go for a ride.



Virginia Huston, Robert Mitchum, and Jane Greer in Out of the Past (Jacques Tourneur; 1947).

Look Out For the Past

The past, it won't let you alone
Die cast, your fate's set, can't atone.
Once fallen, you're stuck
And all out of luck
"Lived fast, no regrets" set in stone.

Surly Hack with Donald B. Benson

Jane Greer and Robert Mitchum in Out of the Past (Jacques Tourneur; 1947).

Pajama Gamey

He reels, filled with dread and disgust
It feels like his head might just bust
He wanders all night
Till dawn's early light
Reveals that he's dead in the dust.

Okay, so Prof. Deemer is NOT dead at this point in the movie. Don't make me show you my poetic license. Leo G. Carroll in Tarantula (Jack Arnold; 1955).

Doom With a View

He's hoisted on high and then thrown
Giving voice to a cry, and a groan
A career of grave-robbery
Ends all smeared like a strawberry
And now moistly Dwight lies, still and prone.

David Cairns

Karl (Dwight Frye) is tossed from the castle's parapet by the Monster (Boris Karloff) in Bride of Frankenstein (James Whale; 1935). Title by doom laden Donald Benson.

Mummy Happy Returns

By the glorious scepter of Set
This horror a grim fate has met
He’s hell-bound for good
Though it’s well understood
They'll restore him for sequels, you bet.

Paul Truster

The end title from The Mummy's Tomb.(Harold Young; 1942).

Another Fine Mesquite

His fate has been highly unjust
He hates to comply, but he must 
Once dashing, now crusty
Old passions grown dusty
So dated and dry he'll combust.

The Mummy strangles some guy on a porch: Lon Chaney Jr in The Mummy's Tomb (Harold Young; 1942). Title by Mesquiter Donald B. Benson.

Mummy-Back Guarantee

First one thinks he is burned in a fire   
Then he sinks, unconcerned, in a mire
Under walls that collapse
There's no call to play taps
Mummy finks, we have learned, don't expire.

Lon Chaney Jr drags his way through The Mummy's Curse (Leslie Goodwins; 1944). The Mummy appears to perish at the end of every film, but we know better. Title by Donald Benson, guaranteed.

Predestination Libation

Don't struggle, your soul's found its mate
Does it bug you your role's bound by fate? 
A plan set in motion
By tana leaf potion
One chug from the bowl you'll feel great.

John Carradine, Lon Chaney Jr., and Ramsay Ames as the reincarnated Ananka, in The Mummy's Ghost (Reginald Le Borg; 1944). Title by preternatural James Finn Garner.

Restoration Tragedy

All he's known and desired laid waste
Dust and bone, long expired, and erased
But for Kharis, no peace
Not a prayer for release
All alone and bone tired, displaced.

Lon Chaney Jr. as Kharis in The Mummy's Tomb (Harold Young; 1942), Title by restorative Donald B. Benson.

Happy Ever Afterlife?

This Mummy will lust as before
When summoned, he just wants to score
His quarry seems trapped
Then Boris gets zapped
And crumbles to dust on the floor.



Zita Johann asks the goddess Isis to protect her from Boris Karloff in The Mummy (Karl Freund; 1932). Title by Donald B. Benson.

Portrait of the Mummy as a Young Man

Warm evenings alongside the Nile
Tana leaves, a sweet song, a sly smile
When a tyro, young Kharis
Felt Cairo was Paris
Now he's evil prolonged, Mummy-style.

James Finn Garner



Tom Tyler as Kharis, pre-mummification, in The Mummy's Hand (Christy Cabanne; 1940). Writer Jim Garner is the host of the poetry site Bardball, dedicated to "Reviving the art of baseball doggerel."