Holy Smoke

Two candles lighting up the gloom,
The first said to the other,
“I’m not a harbinger of doom,
But we are dead, dear brother.

‘They lit us both an hour ago,
And now they’ve disappeared,
I realise I’m burning slow,
But it is as I feared.

‘This church is locked, I heard the priest
Give three turns of the key.
Tomorrow we’ll both be deceased,
We both will cease to be.

‘Soon enough, I’m gonna buy it,
I’m feeling pretty sick.”
The other spoke at last, “Be quiet!
You’re getting on my wick.”