Trumpet fire in the air!
Timpanic rumble prepared,
A small violin close at breast,
A wooden reed filled with spit.

Rolling mezzo piano to fortissimo,
Crescendo clear and piccolo here,
Paper sheets turn metronomically,
Herls rhythm floor to beat.

Sixteenth note and no more,
Resting as a measured approach,
Terrible treble hollow on ears,
Wait then hands thwack.

Silence follows to the door,
Squinting now in solemn tone,
Hurriedly fold stand and bail,
To rain stewed asphalt and cab.