Music Box Me

I play my merry melody

With fervor and with ease

For my merry melody

Is a part of me

Round and round the wheel spins

With bumps that prick at pins

Until, fin’lly, it re-begins

And goes ’round once again

But sometimes a pestilent squeak

From a lack of oil and grease

Makes me ruddy in the cheek

No more am I at ease

So easily might I repair

My ailment with care

But I must first cease all the wear

From the melody I bear

Fin’lly stopped, I silently rest

Gears red hot from the grind

All pulled apart, cleaned, oiled, and dressed

Refurbished by design



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