Master Crotch Playing the Organ, aged 3.
Not for the prudish…
I saw the magnificent organ in St John’s College Chapel
yesterday and it reminded me that this piece was languishing
in a file somewhere…
He invited her to see his action,
presuming that hers would be pneumatic.
He hoped that his extemporisation
would be salicional. He would show her
his tuba mirabilis and swell box.
In exchange she might reveal her feeders.
Tremulant, he tried to think positif.
She might well console him voluntary,
should she have the temperament, Hautboy!
She might indulge his need for flageolet.
“O, dolce Clarabella, in the loft
I will double-touch you in a plein jeu.
Your voix celeste is moving my couplers.”
He pulled out all his stops, the flute d’amour,
but she replied, “You are no Wurlitzer.
Put away that pallet and furniture.
You are less mature than the Infant Crotch.*
and ignorant of the Fundamentals.
I’m virginal but too clavier for you.
Pipe down and stick to your kist o’ whistles.
I never go for the organ-grinder;
I’m more interested in the monkey.”
*Child prodigy on the organ.