A String Thing
The strings are such
A complicated section,
We say that and invoke
Our greatest affection,
With notes that soar
To the highest of heights
The violins bow frantically
Trying to get it just right!
And notes writ so low
A bass’s brow frowns
While bending to bow
So low to the ground.
Always self important
No humility, not a trace
They sit right up front
And take prime stage space.
The rest of the orchestra
Accepts this with grace
Their parts they play well..
They are quite exceptional,
And oh so professional...
BB
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