Two cheeky little cherubs
One fine day were told
We think you're old enough to learn
To play the harp of gold.
With twinkling wings they sped away
To 'Ye Old Harpists' store
And were issued with a harp apiece
But plucked their fingers raw.
They didn't want to learn their scales
As the Archangel said
But carried on in their own style
Which made their pinkies red!
The Lord suffered this is silence
Though all around were glum,
"Perhaps when you are older"
He said, "The notes will come.
So wait another hundred years
Then come back and see me,
Now fly along my little ones
It's honey scones for tea."

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