I play the vibraphone.

The xylophone?

The vibraphone.

The vibra-what?

The vibraphone.

Not the xylophone?

The vibraphone!

These are the words I tend to say more than the notes I get to play

Each night while standing on a stage making music by ear or chords on a page

On a page glued into that one big book, between Y and W where we look

For words that define us, our language, our traits

Words learned as children just shaping our fates

A is apple, B is for boy...U is for umbrella, T is for toy...

X is for...what? What word shall we use? X-ray, perhaps, but often we choose

To say xylophone, xylophone! Just this, nothing more

Nothing more for percussion, so please, I implore you to

Rethink the alphabet, open your mind; remember V stands for vibraphone, if you'd be so kind

V is for vibraphone, D is for drum, M is for marimba...does this sound dumb?

X is for xylophone, that's wonderful but

Know that I play the vibraphone, not the vibra-what.