On this morning in November underneath a bright blue sky
My Spooky took his last walk and my time has come to cry,
And peacefully, the way he lived, he chose a spot to lie
With Blossom standing over him, he closed his eyes to die.

How fragile is the spark of life, how hateful is the dawn,
Last night he was my dear old friend, to-day my friend is gone.
And though the sun is just as bright and sky is just as blue
Today's joys have been put to flight and future joys seem few.

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