An Exaggeration of Actual Events

“Okay, class,” says Miss B. “Let’s go.”
And so begins the dreadful row.
Emily lost her rosin last week.
Johnny’s off key and only can squeak.
Caroline can’t get the fingerings right,
And her twin Bob sees to be having a fight
With his alto sax. That thing’s way too loud.
Andi’s cello seems to have meowed.
Tim, our best player, is at the beach.
Hannah’s trombone is heard to screech.
Peter is missing all of his notes;
Meg’s telling Joe about the book she just wrote.
Lena, our singer, just dropped her mic.
Teddy, her partner, is awful—YIKES.
Kathleen’s dropping her flute. Lance’s A string is mute.
I don’t think Anne’s drum is supposed to go “toot.”
Sam’s clarinet is on full blast.
The days of good music are in the past.
To get out of here, ten diamonds I’d trade.
But if you think we’re bad, you should hear the fifth grade.