by Dorothea Barth ©2010
A musical dilemma reigns
When this choice is at hand:
Lose your soul but soldier on
The fiddler or the band?
Curb that swell and still that phrase
Maestro doth declare
Your feeling 's false, it was not writ
How do you even dare?
New bowings not bestowed today
But slam you if you try
To diagram your own bow's path
To help the passage by
All this swaying 's got to stop
Stay still and barely move
And if you neither feel nor see
Maestro will approve.
Sit right here, no, sit right there
That seat your eyes devour
At dress rehearsal we will fill
With fiddler of the hour
Protectors of the fiddle
Might be inspired to flee
When oligarchic canon
Usurps their liberty
Would that the scene were balanced
Would that it not belittle
I'd pirouette and sing in praise:
I love both band and fiddle!
Where have you gone, my mentor
You wise and prudent guide
Who gave my notes direction
While staying on my side
To each his Dulcinea
To each his special song
To each the challenge to discern
What's right and what feels wrong
And so repeats the question
To fiddlers everywhere
I think I know the answer
The fiddle I will spare
Copyright 2009 Dorothea Barth. All rights reserved.