He was a budding 'scientist, the backyard type was Fred; pursuing his obsession, in his garden shed.

his bench was full of chemicals; powder everywhere; magnesium on his sandwiches, sulpher in his hair.

He was careless in his handling, and poor eyesight was a fact; it really was surprising, the shed was still intact.

Escaping serious injury was a mystery to me; his food was unprotected, grey powder in his tea.

Alas! poor Fred came to an end, a fatefull bonfire night; eating a chicken sandwich, with bits of dynamite.

The funeral was unusual, for Fred earned his immemorium, when his very last experiment, blew the roof off the Crematorium!

Thank You.