The King of Instraments

I suppose that he was someone's pride and joy

But now, squat and abandoned, he waits

The demolition crew, unless the fates

Can find a buyer, eager for a toy.

Sixty years disinterest and neglect

Have gradually reduced his usefulness

And decorators with their uncleared mess

Have choked his pipes and left his chests bedecked

With rubble, dust, dead pigeons and the rest.

Pedal draw-stops don't, and on his Swell

The bottom octave does not speak at all

But then, who cares to hear him at his best?

          A monarch needs a Kingdom to inspire

          And if he can't - what use the Angelic Choir?

Brian Hick Summer 2009

©copyright Sally Hick 26.8.22