Can't wait to play on my pithy ocarina.
With air I trill it--sounds like hurt-mice cries.
By chance it isn't grand
To play obbligato.
You say "goodbyes," fast,
You say "goodbyes" when downbeat falls.

My squalling's wretched play,
First time I played you borrowed
Plugs for your ears;
You jammed 'em far inside.
You begged then later of me
That I would a monk be:
"Take a vow of silence!" you plead.
"You call that music, help you need."

Afraid to play my unpitied ocarina.
You said you'd kill me if I made more tries,
Or at least smash my hand
Playing ostinato
With a tire iron, bash!
You say, "Be mime when downbeat falls."

So now I play not and life's dreary, glum, and boring.
I refrain, but I'll play a new refrain:
I'm gonna take up something new--
Be a bagpiper,
Blow fourscore times, yeah,
Blow fourscore times as much air.