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