Monday, 9 March 2015

This could be instrumental in getting me put away by Grant Harbison

“Bing, bong, bam!” shouted the drum in his rolling voice. “I’m the one who can make the most noise!”

“In your dreams,” scoffed the electric guitar. “Plug me in and I’m louder by far.”

“Oh, what tripe!” boomed the boorish bagpipe. “Plugged in? A wee bit o’ puff an’ ah’ll gie ye a din.”

“It’s not a matter of noise, boys,” cried the tambourine. “Music can be nice when it’s soft and serene.”

“Humdrum!” bellowed the drum. “Music must be loud, and most important of all, it must excite a crowd.”

“Would you keep it down!” whined the weary clarinet. “I’ve been playing all day and haven’t had any sleep yet.”

“Yes, be quiet,” moaned the piano.” Some of you sound like a high pitched soprano. Hush now, please. Any more noise and you’ll waken my keys.”

“I’m so bored,” said the electronic keyboard. “The music I make has no bounds. I’m an instrument that has many different sounds. You cannot compete with me, for I have already won. I’m just all of you rolled into one.”

“You think your smart, bit I’m more the wiser,” said the old synthesiser.

“And what little noises do you have stored?” laughed the electronic keyboard. “You are just a deity that was revered in nineteen eighty.”

“You might be young and you can go ahead and goad, but I once belonged to the great Depeche Mode.”

“But I’m the real star,” said the electric guitar. “I might be revealing my age, but I once was played by the legend, Jimmy Page.”

“Merely a strum,” mocked the drum.

“You shut your mouth, you big buffoon! Rather the hand of Jimmy than to be banged by Keith Moon.”

The drum and the guitar clashed and fell to the floor

And all around them was a huge uproar

Utter pandemonium in that musical store

Where it’s not always harmonious behind the closed door  

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