This is an oldie. Written in 1992.

The man approached the wooden door
of the house of Mr McGabbin.
"Excuse me sir, I need to speak,
do you mind if I enter your cabin?"

"As a matter of fact I do, you see
I do not know you at all.
Tell me what's your business here.
What's the meaning of your call?"

"Well it's about your wife, you see.
Indeed she is not well
She was sifting through zucchinis
and on the market floor she fell."

"But I saw her only a while ago.
To the market she was headin'.
I do not know what you mean by this!"
And his face began to redden.

"She's gone to the happy hunting grounds.
She's come to her demise.
She's resting in Abraham's bosom
where she now so peacefully lies."

"WHO THE HELL IS ABRAHAM?
I swear I'll kill the bastard
for getting his hands on me girly.
Hope he had fun while it lasted!"

"Ah! I see you don't understand me.
So, I'll make this a little clearer-
She's given up the ghost, bitten the dust,
she's cashed in her chips. Do you not see, sir?"

"I don't believe you, not my girl.
Not even an ox could kill her.
She's six feet tall and just as wide.
Built like a bloody brick pillar!"

"Are you deaf or just plain stupid?
You are the cause of much frustration.
Don't you understand, you fool!
Your wife's in liquidation!
She's turned up her shoes, kicked the bucket,
conked out, popped off and snuffed it.
I can honestly say she's pushing up daisies,
she's gone all the way. She's copped it.
She's gone and walked the plank you know-
to see the great grim reaper.
She's dead as a doornail, dead as a dodo.
She's gone to meet her maker.
She's food for worms and food for fishes.
It was curtains for her at the market.
She's passed away, an untimely end.
Mr Brown, your wife has carked it!"

"I hate to disappoint you sir,
but it wasn't my wife you found on the floor.
You see, I am Mr McGabbin.
Mr Brown... well, he lives next door."

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