The dead swans lay in the stagnant pool.
They lay. They rotted. They turned
Around occasionally.
Bits of flesh dropped off them from
Time to time.
And sank into the pool’s mire.
They also smelt a great deal.
Don’t panic! 
I shall be having several pangalactic gargleblasters in celebration!
Strictly to prove that I’m one hoopy frood.
A round of ginnan tonnix for everyone!
I can’t celebrate it right now, I’m spending the year dead for tax reasons.
I wanted to be a sandwich maker for the day but the boss refused my request. 
No respect for greatness.