Yesterday, Geoff and maggie write about a subject dear to my heart as well. The CBA Music Camp has meant a lot to me and my family over the years. Registration will not open until February but there is a link on the web site for last minute Christmas shoppers.
With music camp on my mind, I composed the following tribute:
ODE T MUSIC CAMP
‘Twas the week before Father’s Day, all through the camp
Not an RV was stirring, not even a Scamp
The axes were hung on their stands with great care,
In hopes friendly jammers soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their bags;
And all were equipped with their special name tags.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long summer’s nap,
When out in Grass Valley there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the tent flap I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the warm summer’s night
Gave a lustre of midday things within sight,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a jolly camp director, and teachers so near,
With instuction so skillful you just could not pass
I knew in a moment he must be Bluegrass
More rapid than eagles the instruments came,
And they whistled, and shouted, and I called them by name:
“Now, Banjo! now, Fiddle! now Bass fiddle!, Guitar!
On, Mando! on, Dobro!, and more from afar.
To the top of the class! to the top of them all!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”
Yes study these instruments, try to have fun,
And just as in past years we all shall have won,
Some valuable skills that we all can apply,
To the next fearful jam when we happen close by
And then, in a twinkling, I heard in our camp
The pull off, the hammer on and one little vamp
Sweet tenor harmony, high baritone,
And sweet banjo rolls from a new Epiphone.
A teacher stood forward to speak for his peers,
They were all well prepared to allay our worst fears,
The guys and the gals, all instructors were tops,
“Don’t worry your camp concerts will not be flops”.
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And since he taught fiddle I know he could show
You those neat little strokes that make it a pleasure
To play Fisher’s Hornpipe or some other treasure.
He was lanky and lean, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
It’s all about fun, Music camp is for joy,
And don’t worry much about skills to employ,
At least you’ll have dibs on some early camp sites,
That you’ll value when weekend brings festival nights.
Come banjo, come fiddle, come singers and more,
Come guitars and basses and Dobros galore,
Come mandolins, mouth harps, come anyone,
Let’s hang out together and just have some fun.
Well the season has switched in my bastardized poem,
But my music camp expert will bring you back home,
‘Cause I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight€”
Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!
