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The Saxophone Teacher


I’m not sure if they notice,

I’m not sure if they can tell,

But I’m playing my sax much better,

I’m playing my sax quite well.  


My high C’s are nearly perfect.

And I can even reach low D,

Which is likely due to the effect,

Of my saxophone teacher on me.


My saxophone teacher is pretty,

With long, dark, Misty hair.

She is cute and real Brit witty,

She’s my musical love affair.


She plays her horn like the Bird,

And her ragtime is swingin and hot,

And I like it when she’s singing,

In fact, I like it a lot.


My last sax teacher was okay,

Filled with musical theory and facts.

He gave me instructions each day,

But then I gave him the ax.


When blowing I play with great zest,

And practice for hours without stall.

And the lessons that I like the best,

Are the ones with no music at all.


And I just can’t wait to be king,

And take sweet Sarah in hand,

For romance or a just a fast fling,

For duet or rockin rock band.


And Monty, my dog, seems to like her,

In fact I think he agrees,

In fact he’s trying to climb her,

He thinks her legs are tall trees.


And I’m beginning to see the light,

Just like those old time preachers,

And I just can’t wait till tonight,

When I see my saxophone teacher.

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