The keys on the piano had a quarrel
About which one was needed for a song.
They dueled with a dissonance of sound
When neither would admit to being wrong.
Said white keys, “There are more of us than you,
You’ll see our shape is comfortably flat.”
The black keys then responded with sarcasm,
“So now you are admitting that you’re fat.
We think it’s better to be tall and shapely
With a distinctive color—boldly black.”
Said white keys, “This is just a disagreement;
We didn’t think you go on the attack.
Without us you would be monochromatic,
And were we not discussing melody?
For that, we’re doing just fine on our own.
There is no need for your notes we can see.”
The black keys spoke now with fortissimo,
“We’re tired of all this cadence of dissension.
Without our sharps and flats, you’d be quite dull.
We add a rich and wonderful dimension.”
Just then a skilled pianist sat before them,
Producing from them music quite harmonious.
Said eighty-eight keys all at once together
“Such beauty needs accord from each of us.”
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