My Canary

I had a bright yellow canary,
Who could whistle all day long.
Such a tuneful happy little bird,
Who'd sing the sweetest song.

I named him after the great singer
Caruso; such a special name he had,
His aria's were sweet like the tenor,
Were never mournful, dull or sad.

His home was a large roomy cage,
With a ladder, perch and a bell.
Contented with his lot in life,
As he sat singing tunes so well.

Caruso would like to go outside,
Having a day to sing in the sun.
Enjoyed the warmth and fresh air,
Back inside when day was done.

Although he was only young,
He died at a very early age,
For one day I was upset to find
He was lying dead in his cage.

I'd forgotten he was left outside,
He caught cold, and to my shame,
Dying just through carelessness,
I knew I was entirely to blame.

I'd like to think of my canary,
Continues singing his sweet songs,
Joining in some heavenly chorus,
Happy being where he belongs.

Maybe he will meet his namesake,
And they could sing a duet together,
In a place where there is no night,
For it's always perfect weather.