In London there was a
mechanical girl
Who played the harpsichord.
As a matter of prudence, Paganini,
Who had many dealings with the devil,
Used to leave his soul with her.
It was there when he died in 1840
For which reason he was refused burial
Until 1876 when his grandson Attila got a package
Mailed from London. There, cushioned by letters
And the crumpled pages of yellowing scores
Was a soul, presumed to be Paganini's
So he was buried at last, in Parma.
A few shrewd scholars, though, suspect
The soul's provenance. Tests done in 1896
When the body was moved, were inconclusive.
Who played the harpsichord.
As a matter of prudence, Paganini,
Who had many dealings with the devil,
Used to leave his soul with her.
It was there when he died in 1840
For which reason he was refused burial
Until 1876 when his grandson Attila got a package
Mailed from London. There, cushioned by letters
And the crumpled pages of yellowing scores
Was a soul, presumed to be Paganini's
So he was buried at last, in Parma.
A few shrewd scholars, though, suspect
The soul's provenance. Tests done in 1896
When the body was moved, were inconclusive.
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