TrumpetBoy

This is the Ophicleide; a weird, old Brass instrument that we encountered today at Musik Bertram in Freiburg, Germany. I had never heard of this instrument but was enlightened by the accompanying poem:

The Ophicleide, like mortal sin
Was fostered by the serpent.
It’s pitch was vague, it’s tone was dim,
It’s timbre, rude and burpant.

Composers, in a secret vote,
Declared its sound non grata.
And that’s why Wagner never wrote
An Ophicleide sonata.

Thus spurned, it soon became defunct.
To gross neglect succumbing.
Some were pawned, but most were junked,
Or used for indoor plumbing.

And so this ill wind, badly blown,
Has now completely vanished.
I nominate the Heckelphone
To be the one next banished.

Farewell, offensive Ophicleide,
Your epitaph is chiseled.
“I died of Ophicleidicide.
I tried, alas, but fizzled!”