Photo By Jools Thatcher

Photo By Jools Thatcher

The theme for this week’s JVG Radio Method poem is “ Brass “.

Had a great time at the 34th Annual Festival of The Sun. So much so that I had to phone it in this week.

To play this poem directly in your browser – just click the “play” button below:
[audio:JVG_Poem20120226.mp3]

Also have a listen to the tracks on the new EP “Once We Were Kings Of The World


Brass

“Pig” Mills surveyed the notice board
And mumbled, deep in thought
“No experience necessary”
“Volunteers are sought”

“Volunteers?” snarled “Rabbit”
“Volunteers for what?”
“Pig” paid no attention
He was onto something hot

Their school was the recipient
Of a significant donation
An inheritance bequeathed
With a single stipulation

A percentage must be set aside
The solitary demand
To establish and maintain
A military brass band

“Pig” had no love of music
No interest and no ear
So it came as some surprise
He was first to volunteer

In terms of pure IQ
His brain was more like spam
But akin to Albert Einstein
At sniffing out a scam

He was quick to see the benefits
Supporting his decision
Three hours off school, twice a week
With zero supervision

If they rehearsed or not
Well, no-one gave a damn
The school met their obligations
The money was in the can

Built a dedicated band room
Way beyond the football ground
They named that shed “Canberra”
Not a living thing around

The music teacher, Mr Soak
Shared their cosy club
He’d open up the room for them
Then nick off to the pub

“Squirrel” chose the tenor horn
“Rabbit” baritone
Lindy Dent the coronet
Bruno Lucek, slide trombone

“Pig” selected tuba
Yet another surprise
Given his loathing of physical effort
And the tuba’s weight and size

The first so called “rehearsal”
“Pig’s” reasons were revealed
That tuba was a Trojan horse
Its true purpose concealed

Five cans of “Frosty” Lemonade
Were stashed inside the bell
Two large bags of “Freckles”
Some “Sherbet Bombs” as well

Half a dozen “Musk Sticks”
His Dad’s “Man” Magazine
“Snowballs”, “All Day Suckers”
And a pack of “Capstan Green”

Their sham went on till final term
“Pig” began to gloat
“The only band” he boasted
“That’s never played a note”

If he’d only kept his mouth shut
But word soon got about
While the Principal cared not a toss
He didn’t want it getting out

So they called a snap inspection
At the Principal’s behest
Demanded a performance
To judge how they’d progressed

Regrettably for “Pig”
They chose the worst time of the day
The rest had nicked off early
To share a “Craven A”

It was up to “Pig” to fly the flag
He sat there confidently
“The tuba only has three valves”
“How hard can it be?”

You have to give him credit
He was willing to have a go
Pity it took him half an hour
To work out where to blow?

“Pig” licked, then pursed his lips
Blew for all that he was worth
His cheeks bulged then contracted
Like a hippo giving birth

But the tuba – not a sound
Not a peep for all his strain
“Pig” fell back exhausted
Prepared to try again

The Principal looked down the bell
As “Pig” Mills gave his all
A frozen “Sunny Boy” shot out
Half knocked him through the wall

When the old boy came too
Ten stitches in his crown
“Pig” was caned, the tuba crushed
The school brass band stood down

There’s a lesson in this sorry tale
Musicians should take heed
Especially lead guitarists
Playing more notes than they need

A smoking riff has its place
But it pays to be selective
As “Pig” Mills demonstrated
Sometimes one note’s more effective

© Copyright 2012 Ian Bland

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