A pipe-chamber tradition held in highest regard,

Always counted on to be at his post,

Pascal guarded and carefully listened

For the tapping of words of the ones he loved most.

Coming and going, each and every day,

The tapping of pipes from below and above

Each and every word they would unknowingly say

Pipes conveyed words of news, concern, and of love.

He listened with a skill he'd mastered so well,

No one was ever to be quite as good

As Pascal, except those - his father before him,

And no one else ever would.

Soft spoken, he was gentle, known to be kind,

Quiet as Mouse of the Tunnels below,

Yet a loyalty - firm as the oaks of Above

Only toward those he protected he showed.

He heard every incoming threat or advice,

The good bad and ugly as well,

He heard all the secrets, the stories, and surprises,

And not a single one would he tell.

We never hear much of this patient, good man,

He plays such an invaluable role,

In peace or in war for those that he loved,

He was the Keeper of the Pipes of Below.