We stand here today, in the not-so-warm air,
As a not-so warm breeze un-coifs our hair.
It's the darkest of clothes we find ourselves in,
Clothes black as midnight, then blacker again.
Just look at young Petey,
in his goo-gum wood box,
his cold, lifeless feeties,
in Yellyboar-fur socks.
We knew he was kind as the citizens of Choo,
Who as a whole city, must share only one shoe,
We knew he was smart as the Derry-do bird,
Who, every winter, leads the Yellyboar herd.
I remember poor Petey in his hospital bed,
Wiggling and jiggling and squeezing his head.
The doctor came in with a Harrumph! and said,
Poor Petey, my sweety, you’ll soon be dead.
“What, no!” said Petey,
“Afraid so,” said the Doc.
“But the pills, and the potions, and the tube in my cock?”
“Well the potions were duds, and the pills were a miss,
and the tube was a catheter, it just let you piss.
There’s not much we can do with your noggin chock-full,
Of all those tumors and bloomers and one tiny seagull.”
“You mean I’ll never catch a Gremble, or ride on a Krakowth?
I’ll never know a woman, or the mouth in her south?
I’ll never taste Zoop-fish soup, or learn the Bog-gog Song?
No children to carry my legacy on when I’m gone?”
And with a caw, Petey’s ear jumped a bit,
And out flew the seagull, fast as all shit.
“Caw and Hurrah!” the seagull squawked from his beak,
“Be careful, though, Petey, your head’s got a leak!”
We chortled and snortled and laughed till we cried,
But then our eyeballs saw Petey, and Petey had died.
Oh Petey, we’ll miss you, like glop misses gloop,
Or like yip minus yap, or flop without floop.
It’s with a solemn voice, I ask you today,
To bid farewell to Petey, with a “Zip-Zoop, Boop-Floop, Riddy-Diddy Whick-Whap Goobely-Snoob-Snidday.”