A poem by Beverly Stock.
© Dennis Cox | Dreamstime.com
A moose with guitar came out of a barn,
Four others followed, all blowing brass horns.
They played that night, from nine to three,
Under a palatial spread of chestnut trees.
One moose had a mike, and he was crooning,
One played a drum that required no tuning.
The All Antler Band played slow songs and swing,
All guests thought the band quite a-moose-ing.
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