The violins' notes are sweet and fine,
Two short zips, one long whine.
Long bow flits across the strings,
A melody full of pizzazz and zing.
Next, trombone takes center stage,
Belts his music, page by page.
Silky tone glides high and low,
The brass sensation grows and grows.
Now, who is this? The old French horn,
Shape all coiled, brass all worn.
With valves all moving, beautiful sound,
It lifts its player off the ground.
Soon the cello stands up tall,
Neck extended, sleek and full.
End pin set upon the floor,
Makes the people scream for more.
Now the flute plays soft and sweet,
Shining, silver, and petite.
Tone so high, it could break a glass,
My ears are popping--it'll pass.
The audience roars
Bravo! Voila!
Praise the talented orchestra!
