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Robert L. Martin

Little Piccolo

Little Piccolo
 
Subtle little body that you are
Cutting through wild tempests afar
With no room to store your might
But yet up for a hell-raising fight
 
Your lungs woven from threaded steels
Locked in with angry heavy-duty seals
Charging through all the gates withstanding
With iron-clad wings to a frantic landing
 
With clamoring voices and lofted pitches
Like cursing rampages from angry bitches
Little body with your vociferous screaming
Penetrate my ear drums with your scheming
 
But when the music calls for your madness
You must go forth with thy pent up gladness
To rile up the softness with strident chants
Kicking the music up to strange inhabitants
Little piccolo, you with thy big, big mouth

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