/ i @


The Trumpet Blown




<<<< ^^^^^ >>>>


I went to a concert one night -
the church is across from my house -
it turned into quite a good fight:
the horn versus everyone else.

Frank played every note very flat -
or sharp - he found all of the keys.
The tones of those sounds he got out?
You'd think that a foghorn had sneezed.

The orchestra wandered along,
the chorus was actually good,
apart from mute cursing of "Wrong!
I'd staple his lips if I could".

These problems continued for years
'til concerts in front of a Lord,
who walked from the music in tears -
and Frank, he had put to the sword.

Such murder is highly improper;
the Lord was convicted in court.
But Judge was a music conductor,
so fined him a bottle of port.

You'll find, when your life is complete,
if down to the torment you've fell,
Frank proving, for Satan's conceit,
from National Anthems comes Hell.


cyberspace services limited has ceased trading
this archive is hosted by arts & ego
© 1978-2024 dylan harris