To the tune of Mozart Concerto K.495, movement III
I once had a whim and I had to obey it,
To buy a French horn in a second-hand shop.
I polished it up and I started to play it,
In spite of the neighbours who begged me to stop.
To sound my horn,
I had to develop my embouchure.
I found my horn,
Was a bit of a devil to play.
So artfully wound,
To give you a sound,
A beautiful sound,
So rich and round.
Oh the hours I had to spend,
Before I mastered it in the end.
But that was yesterday.
And just today,
I looked in the usual place.
There was the case,
But the horn itself was missing!
Oh where can it have gone?
Haven't you, hasn't anyone seen my horn?
Oh where can it have gone?
What a blow, now I know,
I'm unable to play my Allegro.
Who swiped that horn?
I bet you a quid somebody did.
Knowing I found a concerto,
And wanted to play it,
Afraid of my talent at playing the horn.
etc.
