Come my friends, come near to me

That I might tell of the journey

To the magnificent Magical Mountain,

Where fun flows as from a fountain.

Thirty was the number of our troupe;

You could not have found a zanier group.

We all were crammed in a big yellow bus.

It smelled so bad that we made quite a fuss,

So our band director, so eloquent and true,

Took one whiff of the stench and said "Ew."

We all decided that to keep our minds off the smell,

Each of us along the way, several tales would tell.

I shall describe all the band nerds as quickly as I may,

For to describe them in depth would take all day.

I shall start with Mr. Zalkind, our director.

When he would loose his temper,

His veins would pop out of his forehead.

His blood pressure was so high, it's a wonder he's not dead.

Nevertheless, he was a fine fellow,

And he played a silver trumpet, rich and mellow.

Then came young Stephanie, who liked to write

Scripts for the "Silver Screen" bright.

She loved both band and volleyball,

She was slightly over five feet tall.

She had the strangest sense of humor.

Her hair was blonde; her eyes were bluer

Than a cloudless sky. She was both clever and kind,

Always ready to help if you were in a bind,

And though she would never boastfully tell,

She played the clarinet quite well.

Of all the band nerds, she was best,

Though she was crazier than the rest.

She traveled with her husband Chris

And his brother Ryan, both of whom she would often diss,

But she was always a faithful wife,

And among the three there was little strife.

Chris and Ryan were close brothers,

And between them came no others.

Chris played clarinet

And Ryan played trumpet.

They made such team; driving big trucks

And making big bucks,

That young Stephanie would spend gladly

(Let no one ever tell you that Sanitation Engineers get paid badly).

Next came our beloved drum major Jeremy,

A fine musician and leader was he.

He was quite skilled on the clarinet,

But a person more cynical you have never met.

His height well exceeded six feet,

And at times he seemed immune to heat.

With also came a troupe of performers, who loved to roam,

They had no desire for a place to call home.

First came "Crazy Dave," or so he was dubbed;

He often juggled with many a ball or juggling club;

His face was home to a bushy red beard;

He played an accordion and was often called weird.

Then came Brad, who played the trumpet very skillfully,

But never would he brag conceitedly.

He was a most amiable fellow,

His eyes were blue; his shirt was yellow.

After him came Bill with flowing golden hair,

With a tie-dye shirt he proudly did wear.

What he would juggle rarely fell,

And he played the bassoon very well.

Lastly came Brendan who always appeared to be high.

Nevertheless, he was very friendly and was never shy.

He could juggle and play the bagpipes and clarinet,

He was an excellent chap who never did fret.

Then there came another Jeremy, who thought he was a poet

And he wanted everyone to know it,

But whenever his work was read, he would be told, "Don't quit the day job."

(Little did anyone know that during the day he would sometimes rob

Banks and then on a bicycle from the scene of the crime flee)

But he could play the bassoon fairly decently.

With us also were Sandy and Allison, sisters dear,

But they did not always get along very well I fear.

With them came Eunice, full of quiet grace;

She was good to all regardless of race.

There also was Holly who never would pout.

All four of the girls were good and devout.

Ashley and Lara with us also traveled,

Their friendship could never be unraveled.

They both loved sports with a passion,

And had an excellent sense of fashion.

Ashley had blonde hair and blue eyes

And from her mouth never came any lies.

Lara's eyes and hair were deep brown

And rarely did she or Ashley frown.

Their minds were sharp; their wits were fast,

To be with them was such a blast.

Then came Gwyn, most rude and unkind,

A more sour person never will find.

A scowl perpetually seemed to furrow her flawless brow;

She could have been beautiful if she only knew how

To laugh and smile like a bright summer day.

She always wanted everything done her way,

She was as stubborn as a mule;

She was often insulting and cruel

Even to her husband, who she claimed to love.

Her husband Erik was like a dove,

Small and gentle, good and kind.

One more chivalrous would be hard to find.

In silence he endured his wife's carping way,

And he earnestly awaited the day

When he could throw off her confining yoke

And stay with more pleasant folk.

Next came Four travelers most dear to me,

Sweet Melissa who we all called "Dickie,"

She was a flute player from Delaware,

She had blue eyes and short blonde hair.

Also Chelsi, the eccentric oboe player,

She who had so many layers;

She was innocent yet corrupt, kind yet cruel,

An absolute genius, a complete fool.

Dearest Stacey, so quick to laugh, so slow to scowl,

Never would she say anything foul.

Lastly, good ol' Brian Mayer,

A sweet yet crazy French horn player.

Then came Sam the excellent and praiseworthy pimp,

He played the tuba, and thus was no wimp.

With him came another tuba player, Trevor was his name.

He took nothing seriously; to him, everything was a game.

Another three also came with us.

Kevin, so quick to make a fuss

He was so short, so quirky.

Greg, he was such a turkey,

So sweet, so peculiar.

Then Michael, who often would mar

Clever words with his strange wit.

His nickname was Bob, and it certainly fit.

Lastly came two mimes from Brugge who never spoke a word,

What their names were, I never heard.