Praise to guitarists all that play and sing,
And spare no pains and efforts to appear
In Churches, temples and make music ring,
To all of them hail! praise! and cheer!

*******

They loved it so, - the good parishioners,
They loved good music played on the guitar,
That the guitarists had so well rehearsed
Attentive as to rhythm, time and bar.

But on a dreary dismal rainy day
Guitarist Beth was late and had to run
To make it to the church on time to play,
Where Sunday Mass already had begun.

On the musicians platform stood deft John,
And picked his strings with great dexterity,
Distinguished looking, classy, like Baron
Von Apfeldampf before his company.

Beth had prepared a passage classical,
Carulli and Purcell, to well enhance
Some vacant music bars, to thus enthrall
With fill-in trills and runs the audience.

She sneaked up to deft John who played away
(The Offertory was by now half past),
And waited for the bars wherein to play,
The well-rehearsd mordent trills at last.

But Oh! what shock!, the two guitars did spar,
A jarring sound offended much the ear,
Most fiendishly,- two instruments at war,
Shocked worshippers up front and in the rear.

A nightmare from which Beth tried hard to wake,
And to awake she played her chords again,
With extra strength that made the hearers quake,
So fearful was her Music Muses strain.

The celebrating priest stood stiff and pale,
With lowered eyes he dared to look around,
And then his gaze fell on his fingernail,
To save him from the so disturbing sound.

What caused this war? - deft John had slipped a tool
Five frets up on the neck of his guitar,
Called Capo that guitarists find so Cool,-
(It changes key without the need to bar).

The ushers tried - and failed,- but did deplore
To well protect alarmed an audience
From jarring sounds and dissonance that bore
Down on the temple - with irreverence.

A German gentleman moaned in his pew:
Ach lieber guter Gott was ist denn das?
A lady, lost or slipped out of her shoe,-
As tenors crooned in baritone or bass.

In line with the intriguing melody,
Some members of the choir seemed near a swoon
Suspended now between key A and D
And the community switched pitch and tune.
.
Yet John pushed up the clamp another fret,
So deftly. oh!, - and - unobtrusively,
Now reveling and hugging key B Flat,
While Beth persisted in the key of D.

The war continued, -- war - not just a spat,-
Both played away with zest and energy,
Beth played in D and deft John in B Flat,
In extraordinary strains of harmony.

The stoic sexton mirrored Socrates,-
Ambivalent as to mans final fate,
Agnostic as to anguish, strain and stress,
And sounds that on the nervous system grate.

Uncertainty remained until the priest
Who celebrated the solemnity,
Looked with reproach upon guitarist Beth,
Who loyally stuck with the key of D.

Guitarists dear! - please take and heed advise:
Agree upon the key in which to play,
And watch guitar necks where the weird clamp lies,-
The fatal clamp - there is no more to say..