Trombone Night Before Christmas

[Wes Krygsman]

Twas the month before Christmas and all through the land,
Many aspiring musicians had trombones in their hands.
There were Shires and Edwards, some Conns and some Bachs,
And even a Schilke, which came as a shock!
With Arbans, Schlossberg and Rochut in their tow,
They took out their horns and gave them a blow.
The first sounds that were made weren't pretty at all,
A blat, notes flat and even a duck call!
But they played as they worked and worked as they played,
To try to audition for an orchestra someday.
The sound kept improving, but try as they might,
That slur in bar twenty just never sounds right.
Mahler and Mozart and Tchaikovsky they worked,
But as hard as they tried their slide always jerked.
With the sounds of Friedman and Alessi in their heads,
What came from their horns was something else instead.
As they blew in those horns and felt like crying,
They knew the only failure was to stop trying.
So they continue to practice through struggle and strife,
Because playing trombone is what completes their life.
There is much improvement and perseverance prevails,
And someday they'll dress in black tie and black tails.
The solo in Mahler 3 will be sweeter than sweet,
And your version of Bolero will bring them to their feet.
So never stop trying as bad as it sounds,
Because through all that work an artist is found.
And though Christmas is over a month away,
Your present is here, STOP THINKING AND JUST PLAY!