Arnold Schoenberg took an axe
And gave D Major forty whacks
Tonic notes took to their heels
Minor thirds shrank and congealed
C sharp tumbled from its perch
Subdominants left in the lurch
Indeed, the once brave mediant
Fled the path that was expedient.
But hark, succor came into sight
Twelve equal tones all pearly white
Forward, backward, upside down
They fly away through skies of sound.
And if of tones you e’re run low
While fashioning a Schoenberg row
And need a dozen more or so
To buy, or rent or else on loan
Call Arnold’s home dodecaphone
BERNARD HOLLAND