Here I am, I'm in my seat
Shoes are polished, clothes are neat,
My throat is cleared, my nostrils both are free,
Awaiting Haydn's Surprise Symphony.

When I hear someone behind,
Someone very unrefined
Rustling their program page,
And I turn around in rage: HEY

Beat it stupid, go get lost or I will
Shove that program up your nostril.
I am listening to this work.
Where were you brought up? A barn, you jerk?
Sweet and graceful, light and clear,
Haydn falling on my ear,
Perfect order, perfect grace,
Every note is in its place.

Then somebody to the right
Turns in loudly for the night
And I wait for one loud note
So I can cut his throat.

Serves him right the little creep he
Should've gone back home if he was sleepy.
I just hope his blood won't drip
Distracting from the great musicianship.

I would gladly put your feet
In a bucket of concrete
Find a bridge to drop you off,
If you don't stop that cough.

If your coughing doesn't clear up,
I will put a drug in your cough syrup
Music is a gift from God,
Please shut up and at the end, applaud.

(c) 2000 by Garrison Keillor