Back in the late 70s & early 80s (that would be 1900s), my wife and I knew someone who insisted she would not pull over for the big 18-wheelers racing down her highway when she had the right-of-way. Back then I learned this little poem that was so appropriate:
Here lies the body of old John Gray
Who died defending his right-of-way,
He was right - dead right - as he sped along,
But now he's just as dead as if he'd been wrong.
To this I found someone has added:
John had the courage; he had the pluck,
But the other guy had a very big truck!
[Instead of the right-of-way right, I usually follow the who has a bigger vehicle theory!]
One that some of you all who are beginning to get a little older can appreciate:
I get up each morning and dust off my wits,
Go pick up the paper and read the obits.
If my name isn’t there, I know I’m not dead;
So I get a good breakfast and go back to bed.
Oh, how do I know my youth is all spent?
My get-up-and-go has got-up-and-went.
But in spite of it all, I'm able to grin,
And think of the places my get-up has been.
[Unknown authors on both, so far as I can tell]