Schrodinger’s Cat’s Last Stand

(Parody of “Growltiger’s Last Stand”: a “practical cat” poem by T.S. Eliot)


Schrodinger’s was a Quantum Cat, who lived inside a box,

In fact he was the least known cat this side of old Fort Knox,

From Copenhagen onwards, those who were poorly read,

Argued whether Schrodinger’s quantum cat was live or really dead.


His old eccentric habits were unhealthy as lit gas,

For his one companion in that box was cat poison, in a flask,

Some say Doc Schrodinger was too cheap to buy his cat a mate,

But those people are foolish, the man had much more on his plate.


The cottagers of Vienna knew something of his fame,

But even still, Doc Schrodinger was an unholy name,

He’d lectured at Princeton, but still gathered no clout,

People didn’t greet him with “Hello,” they’d say, “LET THE POOR CAT OUT!”


His good friend Albert Einstein, sat with Schrod for beer,

After discussing Schrod’s frustrations, Bert said, “Listen here!

This quantum cat you’re working with is genius to my eyes,

Unlike my old special theory, this could win the Nobel Prize!


“They say, ‘do not play with gunpowder,’” Bert told the luckless prof,

“But I did it anyway”—Bert took a pause to cough,

“Anyway, what I’m saying is that the particles don’t all explode,” he said.

“Hmmm,” said Schrod, “I wonder if my cat is live but also dead.”


Oh, there was joy in Vienna when the breaking news was heard,

Dr. Erwin Schrodinger was the biggest thing since Freud,

He’d completed the equation, Nobel called his name,

But no one knows if the old cat found out about his fame.


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