The Curse

---

Music lessons were a curse
when I was just a boy.
Our mothers seemed to torture us
with undiluted joy.
They really thought pianos
kept us free from gangs and crime
and with much application
we might make the real Big Time.
We'd start a game of dodgeball
in the alley on the sly,
only to be ambushed
by that awful mother's cry:
"Come to the piano!"
"Why must you always roam?"
"I've got your lesson book right here,"
"with brand-new metronome!"
'Twalonly thirty minutes
but the time slowed to a crawl.
We felt ourselves grow limp inside
like some used-up rag doll.
When at last the chains were struck,
we went outside again
to find the other kids had gone
to watch some Gentle Ben.
And then at the recital
in a shirt that was too tight
we peed our pants while in the wings
from surfeit of stage fright.
Finally in high school
we did make our parents see
we never ever could become
a famous prodigy.
And that is why unto this day
our bowels begin to clench
whenever we approach too close
to a piano bench.

---

Proud to be a PC? Show the world. Download the "I'm a PC" Messenger themepack now. Download now.

---

Windows Live Hotmail now works up to 70% faster. Sign up today.