You were always musical, ready with a tune

And though I was tone deaf, my ear quite tin

We muddled on by dint of the golden mean

Though I was convinced all opera was a sin

The keyboard in our pool is testimony to a breach

A sad rupture in our regime of mutual toleration

I confess that I shoved it in with one fell swoop

After you inflicted that last Prokofiev quotation

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You Could Own An Upright Piano

You could own an upright piano

The newspaper advert said

And although I can’t play one

The words got messing with my head

We had one when I was a young boy

It stood in the front room, unused

Because no one in our house could play it

So it left all our visitors bemused

Well – actually – I could play ‘Chopsticks’

And my gran...

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