William died in the night. We cremated him on a parakeet sized funeral pyre, sprinkled his remains on the living room carpet, and vacuumed them up.
Sweet William, He dreamed a dream, and he said
I know they mean no good;
for I dreamed my bower was full of red swine
and my bride-bed full of blood
Peg left us in a bit of a pickle. We would have gladly released her body into the Ganges, had time allowed, we had no choice but to flush her down the toilet. Her scales glistened with a radiance that she had never shown in life. The water gurgled and babbled and swirled with a gaiety that I found completely inappropriate for a dirge.
Day passed away and night came on
most of the men were asleep
then he espied Lady Margret's ghost
A-standing at his bed feet
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