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Talk about a dead-end job
There once was a gal, a musician
Who was informed by a physician
'Patients who hear you rehearsin'
Their conditions will worsen
Have you considered becoming a mortician?'
She changed careers, worked for a funeral director
Who felt the need frequently to correct her
Though she was quite charming
When it came to embalming
Had no clue, even the deceased didn't respect her
