Night Before Christmas: Brass Band Version
From Brass Herald Magazine
’Twas the Night Before Christmas-
Just Another Gig Edition
by Lance LaDuke
’Twas the night before Christmas, in front of the band,
the conductor prepared to again give the hand.
They barely just fit in the tiny church loft,
and now they’re supposed to only play soft?
The cornets glared back with a look resolute,
while a horn player snuck a quick draw from his mute.
The bass trombonist whispered to pass the mute down,
while the fist baritone cast a judgmental frown.
Below in the church was a large congregation,
decked in Holiday colors and anticipation.
The children were nestled against Mom and Dad,
hoping Santa remembered the good not the bad.
The Pastor approached in robes red and gold,
to lead in the worship for young and for old.
The silence was broken by sounds from on high,
while pairs of new parents begged their babes not to cry.
The opening hymn happened without a hitch,
except that the tubas could not find the pitch.
The mute was returned, but was empty by now,
the bass trombone’s gaze left no question how.
Another nine pieces were played and were sung,
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as gorgeous as all the fresh garland was hung.
From the back of the band there arose such a clatter;
the bass trombonist had to empty his bladder.
He quickly arose and turned to his side,
unfortunately forgetting to lock down his slide.
The slide tumbled over and caught on his toe,
while parishioners lifted their heads at the show.
The slide was then launched at the bass drum on angle,
it hooked on a stand with a teeter-y dangle.
The stand toppled over and into another,
while the irate conductor referred to his mother.
The silence and beauty were now fully wrecked,
from the deafening sound of this domino effect.
On cymbals, and sleigh bells the stands hit the floor,
while the bass trombonist still made his way to the door.
When silence returned and the place became calm,
the conductor buried his face in his palm.
The last thing anyone heard on that day,
caused some folks hilarity, others dismay.
For the bass trombone said as he slid out of sight,
“Next year we should only play Silent Night.”