In more than sixty years of music in this and other lands
He's often been found playing in local concert bands.
His eyes send messages to his brain, but there it lingers,
And fails to send the signal promptly to his fingers.
So he finds that he is lagging in interpreting the score,
And that the measure he is playing, the band played just before.
The deepest breath that he can draw still leaves his mind in doubt,
And with all those quick staccato notes his tongue is tuckered out.
Which builds in him a feeling of considerable frustration.
But he'd like the membership to know he seeks no consolation.
All he wants is to be with you on many a scheduled day or night,
Trying to make each be a time that everything will come out right.
Lord bless the members of the Blawenburg Band!