Dear Departed Uncle, kilt dead on the road.
Flat as a fritter, a sight to behold.
He stopped for a moment, a ripe opossum he spied
The bounty of the asphalt, well done and deep fried.
He heard not the loud squeal of 18 locked wheels
Nor the blaring horn, no pain did he feel.
Dear departed uncle, we all will miss you,
But not half as much as your RoadKill Stew!