Someone Has to Make Sure America's Future Psychiatrists Have Clients

On top of spaghetti
All covered with cheese
I lost my poor meatball
When somebody sneezed.

It rolled off the table
And onto the floor
And then my poor meatball
Rolled out of the door.

It rolled into the street where
A dog ate it up,
And then that poor puppy
Got hit by truck.

The dog is ground beef now
Rolled into a ball
And seasoned with herbs and
A pinch of sea salt.

On top of my noodles
All covered in cheese
There sat my poor doggie
Until somebody sneezed.

[Crescendo and retard] Until . . . somebody . . . sneezed!

[Editorial note: Notice the fun dangling participial in the first stanza! This ditty just keeps on giving.]