Bassoon Bride

When I was in the Rockies

a pluckin’ with a band,

I spied a bassoon player,

and asked her for her hand.

Her eyes were green and friendly.

Her figure lank and tall.

And when she smiled at me,

my heart began to crawl.

I pulled her to the corner,

so she was mine alone.

Then all the guys around me

commenced in to groan.

“She’ll never play a fiddle

or  strum a mandolin,

so walk away without her

or you’ll commit a sin.”

I didn’t listen to them,

but claimed her all the same.

She kissed me very gently,

which proved she was my dame.

When I walked down the aisle,

my chest swelled up with pride.

My ring was on her finger.

I got my bassoon bride!