THE ENSEMBLE: STRINGS, SPOON AND BASSOON

My orchestral instrument is the tin spoon,

The guy sitting next chair, blows a wood bassoon,

When spoon hits bassoon wood,

The sound is mostly good,

Supported by strings, we make a pretty tune.

WHEN MY FLUTE BREAKS, I BUY A BETTER ONE

My glass Pan flute fell onto the floor,

It shattered, and would toot never more,

I stepped above my class,

Bought a flute, made from brass,

I now toot until my lips are soar.

NICE SPOONING, PHIL

Phillip Sparkle played some old giddy, show tunes,

On his brand new set of silver plated spoons,

He played most of the day,

Till sunshine went away,

Then Phil ate a plate full of sweet macaroons.

MY TRUMPETER'S LULLABY SAID, "NIGHT, NIGHT", LONG AGO

I stored away my trumpet, for the last thirteen odd years,

I got it out to play, but it just made noise to my ears,

My lips are all soft blubber,

And my tongue, solid rubber,

I did sound much better, after I drank one million beers.

IF YOU HURT MY TRUMPET, I WILL HURT YOUR TOOT EVEN MORE

Benny took my pretty trumpet, and dropped it on the floor,

Then, Benny took my trumpet, and nailed it to the  backdoor,

Benny gets so very mean, 

On every Halloween,

So, I sawed in half his Pan flute, and it will play no more.

TRUMPET ETUDES BROKE UP THE TWO DUDES

I decided to write etudes, that were fun and fancy,

I did it for the trumpet, for my students Glen and Clancy, 

The etudes made them play real good,

Got them out of this neighborhood,

Then they had a falling out, over someone they called Nancy.

HARRY BOUGHT SOME BONGOS

Often Harry would play in concert his sweet kazoo, 

Then he bought a nice metal flute, and it was brand new,

Then he bought a clarinet,

Found reeds were hard to get,

Harry bought some bongos, and played them in concert too.

MOZART ON THE DIDGERIDOO

I heard Mozart played on a didgeridoo,

It was something different, something quite new,

I heard The Magic Flute,

On a doo, not a toot,

The doo played an encore, it was Love Is Blue.

#Love Is Blue, composed by by Paul Mauriat

MY SWEATY CORNET

It seemed like for my old cornet, all the notes did melt,

For steaming hot was parade day, and that my cornet felt,

My lips got drip, dry parched, 

The notes got damaged as we marched,

When the parade was finally done, I had a root beer belt.

MY UNIVERSE IS MADE UP OF STRINGS

My entire universe consists of strings,

I put strings on fiddles and banjos and things,

I run string for cloths lines,

I string tie-up grape vines,

I even string gold, and make jewelry that blings.

ALL I WANT

I had a hot toasted pastry for my meal,

It burnt my lips and made them peel,

I saw Santa today,

My burnt lips could not say,

All I want is a glockenspiel.

Like A Trumpet Out Of Tune, Summer Starts In The Month Of June

Summer starts in the month of June,

Not aligned with the full moon,

Somehow that seems quite out of tune,

Like when Jen plays trumpet, after lunch at noon,

It's just hard to breath, after filling your belly so soon.