Bowing and strumming,
The notes came out a-humming,
Running with most frenzied pace;
Fine musical lace.
Taut strings tremolo,
How oft does sound recollect?
Said solo, "It comes
So oft that we feel neglect.
Our voluptuous curves and
Deep, dark swarthy shades
Are attention never paid,
Praise the other band."
And sang the lonely
Bassline, the cello and sax,
"They think our deep notes empty,
And our playing lax."