A short ode on the death of a pet in unusual circumstances
My hamster, being musical –
A maestro some would say,
Adored my Grand Piano
And would pine to hear me play.
Since Beethoven was bound to please
I’d let her sit upon the keys
And squeak in time to Fur Elise
Until that fateful day,
The day she jumped and disappeared,
And still I feel the sting
When, playing Fur Elise, I hear
That deadened, doleful ping:
One note among the sweeter strains
That now perpetually pains
And marks my hamster’s last remains
Stuck to the B flat string.
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