‘Twas the night of the concert and up on the stage
was the old band director now turning a page.
The woodwinds quick fingers were handling the song
while the brass and percussion were playing along
Our sisters and brothers were quiet and still
The parents were sitting and listening until . . . . . .
when out in the audience there arose such a clatter
the band stopped their music to see what was the matter.
The woodwinds, they squeaked and the brass blew out spit,
Percussion dropped sticks; the old man had a fit.
We knew in a moment a CELL phone was to blame.
The ringer was on and it caused them much shame.
We practice and practice to get the notes right
but all the distractions just make us uptight.
For just a few moments your attention required
the world will be waiting, the concert expired.
Please turn off your phones, sit back in your seat
the band has worked hard to offer this treat.
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