A Song by Tom Lehrer. As with all his work, much of the fun is in the music. It establishes a subtle, lilting waltz which contrasts with the surprising and increasingly menacing story of the lyrics:

I hold your hand in mine, dear,
I press it to my lips.
And I take a healthy bite
From your dainty fingertips.

My joy would be complete, dear,
If you were only here,
But still I keep your hand
As a precious souvenir.

The night you died I cut it off,
I really don't know why.
For now each time I kiss it
I get bloodstains on my tie.

I'm sorry now I killed you,
For our love was something fine,
And till they come to get me
I shall hold your hand in mine.

This one normally gets a laugh, and is in fact something of a party piece of mine. But the grisly subject matter caused Lehrer to comment "You know: of all the songs I've ever sung, that is the one I've had the most requests not to."