Countless years your writing spree,
Gave us weirdest fantasy,
Atop a Discworld far away,
But on this earth you couldn't stay.
Far too soon and far too early
Came the reaper with his swirly
Robes and with his dark black hood;
His words like coffin lids of wood.
“AS MY CREATOR YOU MUST SEE,
THERE IS NO JUSTICE, THERE'S JUST ME.”
But even so, don't fear the hatchet.
Rest in peace, Sir Terry Pratchett.