Thirty-six to forty-eight
Bars of polished wood
Cut in a way that they vibrate
To play the note they should.
It isn’t quite a saxophone
If used to woo the fairer sex
But out from the crowd it has grown
Because its name starts with an X.
Thirty-six to forty-eight
Bars of polished wood
Cut in a way that they vibrate
To play the note they should.
It isn’t quite a saxophone
If used to woo the fairer sex
But out from the crowd it has grown
Because its name starts with an X.
Filed under Poems