You accompany my lilting piccolo, with your discord on the grand, your attempts at virtuosity, let me known theres no demand, for the the ripple of your timpany as you squeal on my trombone metronome means nought to you Your pizzicato has no tone To you there is no harmony A hyme to all thats dire you twang upon those strings of mine like your trying to break the lyre A cappella you are awful The organ will play no more Alas theres no creschendo This HAS happened to you before T'would be a comic opera if the choir were the wise don't tell them i beg, i plead and i shall remain the bass between your thighs