"I can't find my note"
Bemoans the confused singer
"Quit now," we all pray

An oxymoron:
"He played the accordion
With delicacy"

Bassoons forever 
Try in vain not to sound like 
A farting bedpost

Gig is going well 
Asshole requests "Danny Boy" 
I look at my watch 

Gorgeous chick tells me
"You sound just like Kenny G"
Hope no one heard her

Great changes, good groove
A one-in-a-million gig
No singer.  Yippee!

Here's the girl singer
Stepping to the microphone
Pitch, Time, All gone now

I once had a dream 
Big house, new car, big money 
Now I play the bass 

Money's everything 
Playing any gig that comes 
Whores, we are all whores 

Pit orchestra gig
Days and nights become as one
I have no damned life

Squeaking and squawking 
All eyes roll to the heavens 
The clarinet speaks 

The accordion 
"Squeeze box," yes, but more often 
"The Stomach Steinway" 

The strings slowly tune
When they're done the unisons
Are anything but

The woodwind doubler
Practicing the piccolo
Neighbor calls the cops