This is a fictitious essay comprising genuine student bloopers and other funny English errors on the subject of music. While the essay is fictitious, all the bloopers are real. I have merely strung them together into a story.
The value of music in schools cannot be misunderestimated. Music acts as a laxative for the pupils. I’ve been unrolled in my music class for two years at my crammer school. In music class, the teacher and pupils are kept constantly on the verge of mental exertion.
My teacher’s name is Miss Dawn, who is everything her name implies. She’s so old, she first heard recorded sound on a phonograph (derived from two Latin words—Phono, I speak; Grapho, through a tin tube). She’s very forgetful. She’s told me to sit on a chair for the present, and I’ve waited all the time, but she hasn't given me the present yet.
Today, we perfumed before an important guest, Mrs Jackson. We had to ask our parents to bring a plate of something (biscuits, sweets, etc) and drop them on Miss Dawn by Friday. We played some of Mrs Jackson’s own compositions; in her compositions, she says she does not consciously exploit tonality, atonality, polytonality, or other -isms. Mrs Jackson seemed taken aback when we asked her to describe her occupation. But finally she gave the monosyllabic answer, "composer". It is unusual to be a contemporary composer; most composers don't live until they are dead.
Despite a temporary bitch in the chorus of the second recital, we earned high praise for our immature skills and talents. Mrs Jackson loved our piano forty. She told Miss Dawn that Mrs Jackson’s dentist husband was willing to make artificial teeth for the piano. During our recent music marathon, we tried to complete 110 hours’ continuous playing, and completed 55 hours on the first day. We played pieces by Bach, a world-famous compositor. Bach wrote music for the organ. He had three wives and twenty children, and in his spare time he practised in the attic on the spinster. We also at a go at Chopping, who was the King of Japan. His funeral march is played at many royal weddings.
Then, we played Filet Mignon by Puccini and Madman Butterfly. Puccini was born in 1858, and died in the future. I love the maladies and themes in Puccini’s music. For those who don’t know, a theme the thing that runs down the side of your trousers.
Syncopation is emphasis on a note which is not in the piece; an interval in music is a period for refreshments; "D.C." at the end of a piece of music means "Don't Clap"; S.O.S. means “Same Only Softer”; and ff means fump, fump.
Our orchestra is known for our fugues. A fugue is what you get in a room full of people when all the windows and doors are shut. Some instruments used in our orchestra are: viles, cellars, trumpets, hornets, baboons, old boys, and bubble bases. Miss Dawn says she has a Stradivarius but I don’t believe in imaginary prehistoric animals. I play the oboe, which is American for our tramp. I also play the goitre, the sonatina (an instrument you play by pulling it in and out), and the staccato (another name for a large fiddle).
Miss Dawn often performs in front of the class with her thrombosis and often secludes with a song. She’s a soprano; sopranos sing notes with tails up while altos sing notes with tails down. She has her own method for teaching singing; it’s called the solar system. She likes to perform musical plays by Gilbert and Sullivan, two famous tennis players. She’s also a fan of Dame Nellie Melba, who broke all records for swimming.