The Music Room
The Music Room
By Elton Camp
Mrs. Van Snoot, of the arts is a patron
She’s a stuffy, self-righteous matron
Who wants all, her virtues to see
Of any vices, she is entirely free
In the fundamentalist church, she’s a pillar
Pure living and sobriety are what thrill her
“Liquor’s never passed my lips,” she said
“Before I’d imbibe, I’d far rather be dead.”
Late afternoon and well into the night
In her music room she’s locked up tight
A huge bass fiddle is on display
It serves in a decidedly uncultured way
For its front can be pushed aside
A well-stocked bar it does hide
Mrs. Van Snoot loves wine, whisky, & gin
Completing the rounds, she starts again
Enjoying culture, for her, goes so far
And then she needs to visit her bar
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