When the fellows brought their cellos,

it got mellow straight away.

All the hangers-on and horns-in-pawn

of course would have their say.

And the violins screamed violence,

while violas sweetly bloomed,

as the harp came in like silence,

when the kettle drum then boomed,

all the dockside shook like thunder,

echoing came voices, crying.

We have but one stage of wonder.

And then all the rest is dying.