Biscuits in the Parlour

“What’s your

opinion

on music,

my friend?”

“I don’t know

if it is

that I have one!”

“Really, good sir,

you honestly expect

me to believe that

you hold no

opinion

to that which is

naturally

human?”

“I simply do not think

it vital

to the continuance of

mankind.”

“You do not think

it – really, old chap?

Surely you must

be jesting.”

“You know I

never jest.”

“Absolutely

ludicrous…”

“I take it you

carry a diff’rent

opinon?”

“Carry a diff’rent –

Indeed!”

“Do tell.”

“Music is what

makes us human!

How can man

continue to thrive

without that which

makes him man?

The beat of drums,

the pluck of harp,

the cry of voice;

It is an art

of which no

other species

can boast!

For you to say

it matters not…

Good sir, you have

my pity – again.”

“Then I thank you

for your pity, sir,

and I thank you

two times o’er,

but I simply

cannot see how

music’s nothing more

than people

tooting horns and

screaming ‘til

they are hoarse.”

“Oh, my friend,

my poor, poor

friend; how wrong

is your twisted

view. Music is

much more than

noise:

‘tis a gift

to lift

man’s soul.

Music is a sweet

release from burdens

of this world.

Music is harmonious

peace that calms

the weary soul.

Music is much more

than noise; it

is the most divine.”

“When you put it

that way, sir,

you make a valid

point; ‘tis doubtful,

though, that I should

change the views

that I now hold.

I simply do not think

it vital

to the continuance of

mankind.”

“Truly, friend?”

“Truly, sir.”

“Then why are you

tapping your

foot?”