Piano, Piano, Lull me to sleep!
Pied keys, black, white, Lead me deep!
Take me far from your friend, Violin,
Whose notes remind of a mother’s wailin’,
Over a bed which feeds on the lust of sons,
And feeds sons of this mother, weepin’.
Let me hear not that giant Cello,
A round and moustached high-ish fellow,
Whose pizzicato like meek Stella,
And baritone like Stanley bellow.
Drown the pluck of Lord Harp’s string,
Which used to make way for Baccus’ paving,
And rising horizontally to Ceasars’ heads,
Created in them the Cleopatra craving.
Also drown the solos of Guitar,
Although He is high up in the musical altar,
But reminds of his rebellious cousin,
Whose rocky yells have become the yellers’ star.
Play on louder than the Drums even,
Percussion Brothers numbered seven,
Brushed and tapped, kicked and smashed,
Who helplessly let themselves driven.
If you are at it, muffle Sir Flute well,
Who robs away even the Kneller’s bell,
By becoming the instrument of cunning pipers,
To whose fingers He His holes did sell.
And you Piano, in this symphonic bazar,
Partner of Bach, Chopin and Amadeus Mozart,
Pure, unbiased in the beauty of your sounds,
Black and white teethed Italian Tsar.
Piano, Piano, Lull me to sleep!
Far away from life, Lead me deep…
