The tuba and piccolo played in the band
And fancied each other, it seemed
But how to assess this glaring hot mess?
They’d nothing in common ‘twas deemed.
Absurd!
My word!
They’d nothing in common ‘twas deemed.
To her mother, the flute, it wouldn’t compute.
She simply could not entertain
The thought that he loved her? He towered above her!
Attraction is tough to explain.
Inane,
Insane.
Their attraction was tough to explain.
It wasn’t, I’ll bet, ‘til they played a duet—
“The Flight of the Bumblebee,”
That everyone heard, though it seemed quite absurd,
That a pair they were meant to be.
To be?
We’ll see.
If a pair they were meant to be.
“Picky, my sweet, I won’t feel complete,
‘Til you marry me, dear little thing.”
“Tubby, of course, we should marry henceforth,
But what will we do for a ring?”
“A ring?”
“Yes, a ring.
Oh, what will we do for a ring?”
The horn player stood, and promised she would
Bestow them the ring in her nose.
They married that day, and had kids right away,
Now the band has the first tubalos.
How grand,
For the band!
They now have the first tubalos!
