‘Twas All Hallow’s Eve

And all through the hall

Composers were throwing

A Halloween ball.

 

In the corner, an orchestra

Doing its job

With Mussorgsky’s Bald Mountain

And Saint-Saëns’ Danse macabre.

 

Along the far wall

Was a monstrous buffet.

Rossini, it seems,

Had been cooking all day.

 

Granados brought specialties

Of his own casa

And Chopin showed up

With a load of kielbasa.

 

Tartini was serving

His tuna tartare

And Padre Martini

Was tending the bar.

 

And there in the light

Of a flickering candle

Was Johannes Brahms

All dressed up as Handel.

 

Hummel did Mozart

Exceedingly well

And Debussy passed himself

Off as Ravel.

 

Sibelius, not known

As a jovial fella,

Was decked out in feathers

As the swan of Tuonela.

 

 

And Wagner, that joker,

Was not to be missed.

With his stringy white wig

He declared, “Look! I’m Liszt!”

 

Verdi as Violetta

Was having a blast,

While Puccini as Musetta

Came fluttering past.

 

At midnight ‘twas Schoenberg

Who struck the twelve tones

Upon a marimba

Of skeleton bones.

 

And what happened next

Could not have been finer.

Bach played his Toccata,

The one in D minor.

 

And though the Toccata’s

Not really a song,

Schubert decided

That he’d sing along.

 

Which wasn’t so scary,

The crowd would agree.

Until Ives chimed in –

In a different key.

 

Along about one

The police got a call

And came to break up

This riotous brawl.

 

And despite the prodigious

Amounts they all drank,

Mussorgsky alone

Spent the night in the tank.

 

©2009 by Alan Chapman

All Rights Reserved