His tunes were so simple the coachmen could sing it,
but some were so complex they thought he was mad,
though they were spontaneous he never would wing it;
yet nothing was scratched out on Mozart’s scratch pad.
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What a bouncing little poem, Gersh! Catchy stuff. Remind me what your book's going to be called and what it's about? I wanted to tell them about it yesterday in our little PH gathering here in London. Love, Gina.
nice poem, has humor too