Piano Practice

I’ve played these notes six zillion times

and now I hate this song.

I practice, practice, practice

and still I get it wrong.

 

I think my piano hates my guts

and won’t cooperate.

Its notes are sharp or flat or strange,

its tempo’s always late.

 

I think I will become unglued,

my nerves are quite unsteady.

My brain has turned to tapioca

my fingers to spaghetti.

 

But I am not allowed outside

till my rehearsal’s done.

So I sit down and start to play

number six zillion and one.