The gong he rang for many
But no sadism was there
Nor gloating when no answer they’d supply,
But regret that only one the laurels wear,
Those near as good left high and dry.
So happily he quipped, quick repartee he found,
His piano accompanied lilt made all our worlds go round!
X years may you go on, I wrote to him of late,
And in this case may “X” infinity equate.
Sad this when one now hears
He just had some weeks instead of years.
Sad there’s gone one by whom we all have gained,
A little paradise to us he gave,
And now a greater one himself attained!