Trumpet Man
Albert Basalt

The man with the trumpet is playing
He's playing all day long
Although it mostly is a sad tune
We all love the music that was coming from his horn

Nobody does really know him
He must be very shy
He starts to play in the morning
Just playing along
But will the music never die?

One day his music was different
Many people came to see
It seemed to be so far 
So far away
Like he had lost his melody

In the weeks that followed it happened
Something strange took place
Because the sound became louder and wors the tune
They got angry with him these days

People couldn't stand it any longer
They went to the old man because
They wanted to silence his trumpet
The horn was smashed
The old man could not bear his loss

Not so much later ehen the old man was dying
He had gone completely mad 
At last his body was burried after his music had died down
But they will miss him now he's dead

The man with the trumpet was playing
Playing all day long
Although it mostly was a sad tune
We all loved the music that was coming from his horn