You made me able, to find the funny places,
The wonder and laughter on all of your faces,

you were not the only one, that made comedy fun,
you were one of comedies favourite sons.

You hid your life to the public eye,
Or was it everybody knew, but didn't pry,

I set you on a pedestal many years ago,
then you let it be known, you did not own an ego,
every laugh hid tears, every outburst disguised fears,

of alcoholism,
of depression,
of schisms,
and therapy sessions,

the mind behind Mork was human too.

Skelton,
Knotts,
Winters,
and you R.W.

Made me laugh till the tears poured from my eyes,
                                  like they did today,
In thanks, I throw words on a screen, your humour
was not always clean, but bordered on obscene,
uptight ***** sitting in chairs, laughing like they had no cares,
you gave them relief,
for a brief spell, they walk through the land mines,
not seeing your hell, thinking everything was fine.

I found your humour coarse at times, call it shock therapy,
Your improvisation was sublime, best pupil Winters never had,
in his class.

"Jack" of all trades,
master of none, except maybe
a comedy tour.

I never knew you, but I got to hear my laughter,
because of you, I never knew you, but woke up the
next day trying to remember what, I never knew your
best line was I heard, from the night before, there were so many.

We needed you to make us laugh, again.
We may not have been much help.
You needed help and humour was not enough.
You needed help and ... I am just a small town boy
in a big city, and now turning to Steve Martin for
all my laughs.
No pressure.