My apologies for the incorrrect email link for our Chair, Diane Hould, at the end of article, . If you'd like to sent her a note for her clever poem, the one at the bottom of the poem is now correct.
'Twas the month before Christmas, and all through the land,
All musicians were pressing toward concerts at hand.
Rehearsals were many, spare moments were few.
Directors were testy - yes, you would be, too,
If you had a concert for which you weren't ready.
With ringers or singers who couldn't be steady
In rhythm or pitch, or heavens, attendance.
But yet within them, lay your utter dependence.
But all was not lost, for the train was now rolling,
With no way to stop all the concerts approaching.
Which was strangely relieving to all those involved,
For soon all the stress would be over and solved.
Christmas could really be focused on then.
Time to get the tree up, begin shopping and when
All that was completed, there'd be wrapping to do
And hopefully no one came down with the flu.
Yet strangely enough, no musicians were bitter.
(OK, maybe one, but not one was a quitter.)
The players all knew that although they were tired
Their efforts would surely leave listeners inspired.
The gifts they were given are given to few.
They oft heard, "I wish I could do what you do."
And so they pushed forward; they knew they were blessed
Musicians, directors - they'd soon find some rest.
It all would be worth it, when on Christmas Eve
They could plop on the couch with a sigh of relief.
Yes all was not lost, for the end was in sight.
Happy concerts to all, and to all a good night!
Diane Hould
