06.09.04: The Ballad of Herbie the Gerbie ‹ Blog

For certain is death for the born, and certain is birth for the dead;
Therefore over the inevitable thou shouldst not grieve.
Bhagavad Gita

The Ballad of Herbie the Gerbie

6.09.04

Herbie the Gerbie
2002(?) - 2004

O sit ye down and listen to this dreary little plaint,
And don’t ye worry ’bout its length—I won’t be over-verbal —
Now stop me if you’ve heard it (but I guarantee you ain’t)—
I’m goin’ to sing a song about a feisty little gerbil.

This gerb was first discovered in a dirty little shop,
The last of all his brothers, for nobody wants a biter.
Of all the other creatures there, he thought himself the top,
And swelled his little chest up like a reg’lar little fighter.

Into the shop one day there came a silly pair of lovebirds,
And hand-in-hand they strolled until they stopped before his tank.
They peered at him, he peered at them, they cooed at him like dove-birds,
And ’fore you know it, he was saying goodbye to his tank.

A new home had the gerbil now, along with a new name—
For after much debating, they had set to call him Herbie.
(And if you don’t approve and you are looking to cast blame,
Let me remind you, it’s the only name that rhymes with “gerbie.”)

Ol’ Herbie lived a joyful life, all full of treats and boxes;
No human hand disturbed his nest, no curious cat could reach him.
He spent his days a-tunneling and chewing cast-off sockses,
And as for tricks and taming—well, we daren’t even teach him!

A healthy little lad was he, and never still a moment,
But always working busily among his cardboard mazes
And sometimes he would take a break to terrorize the cat
Or scurry frantic ’round the cage in certain manic phases.

One day the lady of the house brought him a little treat,
And reached within to wake him up, and touched his little side,
But Herbie-gerb was stiff and still, and chilly were his feet—
This rare and roguish rodent had slipped off to sleep and died.

With tears and pain they laid him in a tissue-box to rest,
And took him to the vet’s, and gave him over for cremation.
The tears were flowing freely as they emptied out his nest
And left his empty tank to brood in solitary station.

Now there’s a macaroni box that will not feel his teeth,
And there’s a scoop of bedding that will not be shredded down,
And there’s a treat a-waiting for that daring little thief
To snatch it up—but Herbie is no longer to be found.

So goodbye, little Herbie-gerb—you were a valiant friend.
We’ll all of us remember you until the day we die.
And if you’re simply waiting for this song to up and end,
Then wait no more, for I will give my bow and say goodbye.