The old man with the tin whistle
Could barely play a tune
It was described my many
As causing dogs to cry to the moon But the music they could not hear
Because the man could not play
Was the music of Peace and Contentment
To which the musician did sway.
The young man with the violin
In the attic gathering dust
To pass the time and ease his nerves
He feels that drink he must
No tunes he plays, though many he knows
For he by a master was trained
But he is restless as he is young
And against discipline has strained...
"Oh, listen to the old fool", some say...
"When he cant play, why does he try?
He'll never be better or worse than he is"
They say with a resigning sigh.
The old man as a fool some people dismiss
Because he can make dogs howl to the sky
The point of the two players is missed
Is that the younger makes his own mother cry!
