i am admitting now that i have a grade-schoolesque crush on a piece of wood. i can’t stop thinking about it. i haven’t felt this way about my last few girlfriends, i’m so excited. it’s a 1946 glasel, made in germany. i’m so in love. i also just realized how bad that first sentence sounds, and before i make anymore comments like that, i’ll stop.
I really sucked at violin. (Had to learn it for 6 weeks as part of the music education curriculum: French horn was my instrument).
I barely remember the fingerings to Dvorak’s “Humoresque”, but I remember some of the words:
Passengers will please refrain
From flushing toilets when the train
Is standing in the station, I love you…
Sweet shit, dude! What kind of music you play?
screech-owl, the proper words are:
“Every evening after dark
We goose the statues in the park.
Sherman’s horse can take it! Why can’t you?”
Proper? Horsefeather, balderdash and my most copious butt! 
My cite - J.B. Handelsman (cartoonist, well-known from Punch magazine (lament, lament) - Freaky Fables [St. Martin’s Press; ISBN: 0312303610] - “The Glassblower”: The Narcoleptic Fairy can only be awakened by the sounds of Dvorak’s “Humoresque”, with those words penned in Handelsman’s inimitable style.
Next you’ll be telling me the words to Brahms “Piano Concerto #1” are not:
“Brahms, if played with apprehension
Hurts your horn, if it’s a French one.”