Inside each note,
That metallic peal,
Speaking as if from quote,
Poly-tones unreal,
Derived from crude oil,
Hammered panels tuned, 
From histories old and royal, 
Facets new and rich, 
Who would have thought,
We could have wrought, 
Something so Carnival, 
From something so castaway, 
From Bitumen's pungent tar, 
Four beats to every bar, 
Floating from yonder Road, 
Between slam dominoes, 
The first to invent it,
One and same as last, 
Whose drums were stopped,
From invoking memories past, 
From playing what, 
They wanted to play, 
Finding means another way, 
From something so throwaway, 
This sound could never be taken away, 
Those who once said no, 
First to repeat request:
Play that for our special guest! 
Our inventions necessity, 
Transplanting us from overseas, 
Signalling far and wide, 
Dangers present woe-betide, 
From something crude, 
Something so rich and dark, 
Thick poly-tonal pitch,
Ancient royal and rich, 
Floating from yonder road, 
Between slam dominoes.