A/N: Mainly, the first verse and refrain deal with marching band, the second with Wind Ensemble (a.k.a. what the talented bandies do when football season's over, though we actually start concert music a little before that). Also, I got the idea of doing a marching band parody of "Three Small Words" from "Five Long Hours" by Tyrablaze, but beyond that, it's all my own writing.
Long Band Hours
(to the tune of "Three Small Words" from Josie and the Pussycats)
Here's a shortened version of a piece
Transposed to a simpler key
Play from low E to high C
Ashley, Claire, I'm in between
This show's a ten-minute thrill ride
I'm too near the home sideline
F through G, those triplets
At this tempo, hard to get
We can't make a perfect set
Haven't reached the slow part yet
Nine practice hours
Six band camp days
Will this time through ever be done?
Dismissal seems
To come to late
To get to the field house by one
Three-measure-long chromatic rush
Sousa marches make me blush
So high they turn my brain to mush
(Piccolo solos don't impress me much)
The sophomore oboe wants me dead
He sprained my wrist, I hit his head
His temper's fire, his heart is ice
Mike Ramsey never will be nice
For me this isn't paradise
If I were him, then I'd think twice!
It's just an hour
But every day...
Can I survive period one?
And my band class
Gets out too late
I'll never get my homework done!
Each day, two hours
Each week, two days
Until the football season's done
But rehearsals
Always run late
We'll get out at 5:21
Then all the hours
Of the school days
A bandie's work is never done...
We were rookies
We'll graduate
(Except for all the stupid ones)
Long Band Hours
(to the tune of "Three Small Words" from Josie and the Pussycats)
Here's a shortened version of a piece
Transposed to a simpler key
Play from low E to high C
Ashley, Claire, I'm in between
This show's a ten-minute thrill ride
I'm too near the home sideline
F through G, those triplets
At this tempo, hard to get
We can't make a perfect set
Haven't reached the slow part yet
Nine practice hours
Six band camp days
Will this time through ever be done?
Dismissal seems
To come to late
To get to the field house by one
Three-measure-long chromatic rush
Sousa marches make me blush
So high they turn my brain to mush
(Piccolo solos don't impress me much)
The sophomore oboe wants me dead
He sprained my wrist, I hit his head
His temper's fire, his heart is ice
Mike Ramsey never will be nice
For me this isn't paradise
If I were him, then I'd think twice!
It's just an hour
But every day...
Can I survive period one?
And my band class
Gets out too late
I'll never get my homework done!
Each day, two hours
Each week, two days
Until the football season's done
But rehearsals
Always run late
We'll get out at 5:21
Then all the hours
Of the school days
A bandie's work is never done...
We were rookies
We'll graduate
(Except for all the stupid ones)