Nimrod was a mighty hunter, so the Bible said,
but like every ancient hunter, he ended up dead.
Nimrod was my mother’s dog, big, black and strong.
Everywhere my mother went, Nimrod would come along.
My mother loved good music, she would listen to Classics FM,
so when my mother died, we chose her favourite hymn.
Elgar composed Enigma Variations, Nimrod was the best.
We played Nimrod at Mum’s funeral, with Nimod’s ashes locked in her chest.
Caesar was an ancient ruler and his enemies hunted him down.
Mark Anthony came to bury him, not to praise him with a frown.
Caesar was my mother’s dog she’d had a while before.
He was another big black dog she really did adore.
But, like all dogs, he didn’t get to live very long
and that was when her next dog Nimrod came along.
We didn’t have Caesar’s ashes to put in Mum’s casket,
but in went a photo of him sitting in his basket.
The hunter and the hunted were united at Mum’s end.
It was my mother’s wishes that she’d be with her best friends,
and that they’d both go in her coffin when she was laid to rest.
Then we scattered all their ashes in places they all loved the best.