Some play trumpet, some play saxophone,
there are those in back, that stand alone.
There are wooden clarinets and shiny flutes,
oboes and bassoons, with some different toots.
Those in the back, roll on the snares,
sometimes they’re loud and get lots of stares.
There are brass trombones with big long slides,
they ump and pa, with long slow glides.
They’re heavy and curved, those great big basses,
never in a hurry, couldn’t go to the races.
Last, but not least, someone leads the band,
starts and stops with only a hand.
An unusual collection of instruments and drums,
makes wonderful music that everyone hums.
Poetry & Art by Patricia Walter 2000 ©