The racers lined at the finish line
This race would determine the true master
The hedgehog thought to himself, “This race is mine.”
Meanwhile, the egg man readied his blaster
Knuckles knew that he would have to be faster
The robots were there too, they were cold lifeless shells
It would be a disaster
At the end of this race, there would be no celebratory bells.
This was the city, and they would have to survive
The runners took off; Knuckles had a head start
The egg man aimed his blaster; this should stir the hive
BLAM! BLAM! Knuckles was shot; this was no Mario-Cart
He scrambled to pick up his rings; they were a part of his heart
But he was in the city, and he had to survive
In addition, he had to also keep that dream alive
The robots raced past him
The outcome looked dim
Luckily, he had a shortcut in mind
The robots weren’t blind, and they were super Artificial Intelligences
They quickly followed after him, beeping and bopping
Knuckles wanted to win the race; this was one he wouldn't be dropping
He saved up enough rings and ahead saw a booster
The awesome store was in town, and he was shopping
The robots thought he was scared and made the sound of a rooster
With a quick deposit, he zoomed with a dash
The robots were in amazement, then short-circuited
He crossed the finish line, and won the trophy and cash
The race was his, and thankfully he had not hurked it.
Who wouldn’t want to be a Tuba?
Powerful sound
Is that a pound I hear?
Keep it down Clarinet
You wouldn’t dare make a bet.
Oh please, Tuba
Why don’t you go live in Cuba
Besides, people would rather hear a toot
Than just a poot.
Clarinet, you had better scoot
We all know that Flute is the way to go
My melody is soft like the wind
Keeping the audience pinned
Hold on guys, give Trumpet a chance
They obviously prefer my big brass sound
Maybe you all shouldn’t be so crass
You know that you’ll just get a pass.
You might not know me, but I’m the Bassoon
Compared to me you all look like buffoons
Besides, you will all be dried like prunes
Plus, I know how to make the audience swoon.
Wait everyone; we have a concert coming up
We could spend better time humming
We should put aside our differences
And perform this show with stride.
Though I still disagree, we might as well of tried.
The sound of the melody is pleasing to my ear
My fear sets in as seat by seat is filled
I look around and all I hear is a great big leer
The imagination runs wild, it starts to build.
To a fine tune, the sound is pleasing
I stop only to listen
The teacher gives me a look, it’s unceasing
My inspiration starts to kicks in, the sound begins to glisten.
A Race In Space
The racers lined at the finish line
This race would determine the true master
The hedgehog thought to himself, “This race is mine.”
Meanwhile, the egg man readied his blaster
Knuckles knew that he would have to be faster
The robots were there too, they were cold lifeless shells
It would be a disaster
At the end of this race, there would be no celebratory bells.
This was the city, and they would have to survive
The runners took off; Knuckles had a head start
The egg man aimed his blaster; this should stir the hive
BLAM! BLAM! Knuckles was shot; this was no Mario-Cart
He scrambled to pick up his rings; they were a part of his heart
But he was in the city, and he had to survive
In addition, he had to also keep that dream alive
The robots raced past him
The outcome looked dim
Luckily, he had a shortcut in mind
The robots weren’t blind, and they were super Artificial Intelligences
They quickly followed after him, beeping and bopping
Knuckles wanted to win the race; this was one he wouldn't be dropping
He saved up enough rings and ahead saw a booster
The awesome store was in town, and he was shopping
The robots thought he was scared and made the sound of a rooster
With a quick deposit, he zoomed with a dash
The robots were in amazement, then short-circuited
He crossed the finish line, and won the trophy and cash
The race was his, and thankfully he had not hurked it.
Who wouldn’t want to be a Tuba?
Powerful sound
Is that a pound I hear?
Keep it down Clarinet
You wouldn’t dare make a bet.
Oh please, Tuba
Why don’t you go live in Cuba
Besides, people would rather hear a toot
Than just a poot.
Clarinet, you had better scoot
We all know that Flute is the way to go
My melody is soft like the wind
Keeping the audience pinned
Hold on guys, give Trumpet a chance
They obviously prefer my big brass sound
Maybe you all shouldn’t be so crass
You know that you’ll just get a pass.
You might not know me, but I’m the Bassoon
Compared to me you all look like buffoons
Besides, you will all be dried like prunes
Plus, I know how to make the audience swoon.
Wait everyone; we have a concert coming up
We could spend better time humming
We should put aside our differences
And perform this show with stride.
Though I still disagree, we might as well of tried.
The sound of the melody is pleasing to my ear
My fear sets in as seat by seat is filled
I look around and all I hear is a great big leer
The imagination runs wild, it starts to build.
To a fine tune, the sound is pleasing
I stop only to listen
The teacher gives me a look, it’s unceasing
My inspiration starts to kicks in, the sound begins to glisten.