Well now… pull up a stool, darling. Name’s Doc Valentine, county coroner, third martini of the afternoon. Had me the sunniest little day down at the slab… thought I’d croon you the details. Key of E-flat, boys—if it ain’t flat, it ain’t fatal. Woke up this mornin’, the sun was shinin’ bright, Pulled back the sheet on a fellow who died last night. Oh, his bowels had busted like a cheap paper sack, A glorious mudslide from belly to back! I said doctor, doctor, what a wonderful day, He bloated and baked in the old-fashioned way! The gas in his gut went bloop-bloop-badoo, And the smell hit the morgue like a warm gumbo stew! Oh happy day (happy day!), When the rectum gives way (oh it gave way!), When the colon says “pardon” and lets it all spray, It’s a happy, happy, happy autopsy day! Found a sweet little widow, only twenty-two, Her hubby slipped in the tub—well, what luck comes in twos! She grinned when I told her the news with a wink, Then she bent right over and—pfffft—let one slink! I said darling, darling, that’s music to me, A widow who farts in the key of D! We danced through the drawers where the stiffs decay, Waltzin’ on intestines all night and all day! Oh happy day (happy day!), When the corpses let play (let it play!), When the Y-incision lets the brown river stray, It’s a happy, happy, happy autopsy day! Now some folks like roses, some folks like wine, Me? I like a rigor-mortis valentine. Give me six feet of bowel on a cold steel tray, And I’ll sing “Sweet Adeline” in a warm brown spray! So here’s to the pus and the putrefaction, Here’s to the ultimate chain-reaction! When the sphincter surrenders and the soul slips away, That’s my idea of a red-letter day! Oh happy day (happy day!), Flush the world away (let it flush away!), When the dead and the living both cut loose and spray, It’s a happy, happy, happy, happy autopsy day! Close the drawer, boys… that one’s ripe. Next round’s on the widow... she left me a tip.
