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The Tale of An Old Violin

There she stands, an old violin
She has no string and no bow
Who would want such an old violin
Is what everyone wants to know.
She is scratched up and battered,
Broken, used up and torn
She has seen better days but now she stands
Wanted by absolutely no one.
This violin had once been new
And shining like the sun
She played the sweetest music
And was loved by everyone.
But she had no special musician
So she was passed from hand to hand
Amateurs and pros both played her
Sometimes solo, sometimes in a band
Sometimes she’d go out of tune
But someone would come and tune her
And every time her strings were tuned
Her music became sweeter
Some musicians loved her
And were the ones who played her best
Others never learned to hold her properly
Cause they just couldn’t care less
With lack of care her vanish peeled
Her strings began to rust
The less her players cared for her
The more she filled with dust.
A violin once loved and cherished
Now sitting in a corner
Dirty and broken, no one sees her worth
And now nobody wants her.
“Sure she’s beautiful”, some musicians say
“But she’s old and broken and I rather
Get a brand new violin”.
One or two tried to play her
But her strings they couldn’t tune
Some saw her as valuable
But they already had their own
A few people tried to tune her
But they pulled her strings too tight
So no matter how hard they tried
She never sounded quite right.
Her strings began to wear out
And they all burst one by one
Her bow broke in half one day
Her players each said “I’m done”
Her body is decorated with the names 
Of everyone who’s ever touched her
Her pegs are pulled out, her fingerboard broken
Her music is silenced forever 
This violin once loved and played
By hundreds of men and women
Now sits in a corner broken and forgotten
Never to be played again
So there she stands, this old violin
Who once meant the world to someone
Now all alone and abandoned
Her music is dead and gone.

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