She heard him play the saxophone –
His low and soulful baritone,
His sexy hex and throaty moan
Were hotter than a wild trombone.
He spied her with a violin –
Her siren lure; her swoop and spin
Drowned the lyre and mandolin
In surging swells of rhythmic sin.
She felt him tease and pluck and strum
The double bass. His throb and thrum
(As burly as a rugby scrum)
Aroused her inner kettle drum.
He listened to her trumpet pump it –
A blast as brassy as a strumpet,
Yet luscious as a buttered crumpet –
No piccolo would ever trump it.
He heard she had the cutest lute –
A hidden and forbidden fruit.
He planned to flash his polished flute
To woo her with its trill and toot…
Alas, a tenor from the choir
Had set her heart and lute on fire.