With a mournful moan and silken tone,
Itself alone comes ONE TROMBONE.
Gliding, sliding, high notes go low;
ONE TROMBONE is playing SOLO.
Next, a TRUMPET comes along,
And sings and stings its swinging song.
It joins TROMBONE, no more alone,
And ONE and TWO-O, they’re a DUO.
Fine FRENCH HORN, its valves all oiled,
Bright and brassy, loops all coiled,
Golden yellow; joins its fellows.
TWO, now THREE-O, what a TRIO!
Now, a mellow friend, the CELLO,
Neck extended, bows a “hello”;
End pin set upon the floor,
It makes up a QUARTET—that’s FOUR.
And soaring high and moving in,
With ZIN! ZIN! ZIN! a VIOLIN,...
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