How about this gem from the woebegone pen of the Sweet Songstress of Saskatchewan?

Oh calf, that gambolled by my door
Who made me rich who now am poor,
That licked my hand with milk bespread,
Oh calf, calf, art dead, art dead?

Oh calf, I sit and languish, calf,
With somber face, I cannot laugh,
Can I forget thy playful bunts?
Oh calf, calf, that loved me once?

With mildewed optics, deathlike, still,
My nights are damp, my days are chill,
I weep again with doleful sniff,
Oh calf, calf, so dead, so stiff.

        -- Sarah Binks

j