Who would want to practice piano?
There’s too many notes and italiano! rhymes—
I’d much rather be tanning on some beach in Mexico.
I could’ve been that girl—the pretty one—you know,
dressed to Parisian nines and chasing dollar signs—
Oh! if only I didn’t have to practice piano,
Then I wouldn’t be stuck for hours in some studio;
I could be wrangling instead with tangents and cosines,
or having adventures like Tintin’s in the Congo!
Where did they even come up with portato?
Staccato is “short” and legato means “line”—
Does it matter what’s between? (Only to idiots who play piano.)
Calando, scherzando, animato, col legno?
Who cares about the sons or ways of old Stein?
Who’d choose Messiaen over those policemen from Tokyo?
Now, if there had been a nicer Princess Turandot,
and Giacomo hadn’t come up with Pinkerton-Lower-Than-Slime
then, yes, perhaps I would’ve wanted to practice piano.
(Just kidding. I’d rather go tanning in Mexico.)
By Ariel Mo