crawfordeDeep in the pines where the night birds call,
I hide my heart and I hide it all.
The reeds they whisper, the woodwinds sigh,
But I can’t play where the daylight lies.
No, I can’t play where the daylight lies.
The bassoon is a mood,
For tunes to the moon,
But I’m a hairy dude,
Just living in gloom.
Oh, if they only knew,
The music in my room,
A secret dark and true,
A bassoon in the gloom.
The village dances, the fiddles ring,
But I’ve a double reed I long to sing.
My hands too large, my breath too wild,
Yet dreams of music make me a child.
Dreams of music make me a child.
The bassoon is a mood,
For tunes to the moon,
But I’m a hairy dude,
Just living in gloom.
Oh, a secret song,
That I can’t prolong,
For fear they’ll see me wrong,
Where I don’t belong.
What if I played one night by the fire?
What if the notes betrayed my desire?
Would they hear beast, or would they hear man,
If the bassoon spoke what I never can?
The bassoon is a mood,
For tunes to the moon,
But I’m a hairy dude,
Just living in gloom.
A reed in the dark,
A song in the pines,
The bassoon in my heart,
Forever confined.
