Spring Concert

Dedicated to music teachers everywhere (with apologies to William Shakespeare):

That time of year thou mayest in me behold

When all that hath been silver,

Must now change into gold.

When that which hath been mere sound,

Must change to pleasing tone,

And played with two swift mallets

Upon the xylophone.

When children casually tinkering,

Must now show what they feel.

Express their deep emotion,

Upon the glockenspiel.

Now merrily the bells doth ring,

With well-shaped mouths, the children sing.

The teachers tense, some close to rage,

Moving hordes of children upon the stage.

How shall they enter, go off, which way?

And who knows why Johnny,

Isn’t here today?

Why are all these recorders,

So dreadfully out of tune?

(Maybe we can skip o'er May,

And just go straight to June?)

Yea, that time of year indeed has come,

To join together bell and drum.

To take off bars, then put them on.

(And just where has that F# gone?)

Make sure each movement’s choreographed,
Precise and joyful, with room for laughs.

Spring Concerts' here, oh, fun! Fun! Fun!

In a mere three days, they’ll be done! Done! Done!