Jane's mother wanted her to play the violin
But Jane, eyes wide open, shook her head sadly
Protesting it was not for her at all
What with fingering frets and the lessons
Bridges and strings keeping her from sport
Imagining what awful sounds she would make
Made her feel really bad in her belly
He mother now saw how broken she was
Jane protested she was so good at sport
Her voice husky and close to crying
"It would ruin all my plans" eyes in tears
Voice brittle she moaned, "I'm good at hockey"
