The Talking Tympani, by Robert L. Martin

Robert L. Martin

The Talking Tympani

“My head hurts when you

Beat me up so much

With your constant pounding

The next time you use me,

Find a softer ballad so I

Won’t hurt so bad

Or may I sit the next one out

When the orchestra plays

Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture?

Please leave me alone

For a while

By the way,

Do you have any

Alka-Seltzer?”

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