• A violinist he was, and all the town knew
    By his violin who sang, strings straight and true
    He’d retighten all his strings, each morning, each night
    Each string with care, each perfectly tight
    With his bow at the ready, he pulls out a note
    Violin under chin, and fingers on it’s throat

    The violin would chime, it would bellow, it would ring
    A bittersweet melody, a voice from its strings

    He plays in the markets of many a town
    Though his melodies carry from near to far ‘round
    He returns home each evening to his beautiful bride
    With sweet yellow hair, soft skin, and blue eyed
    The violinist had troubles, each day he had strife
    For the person he hated, hated most was his wife

    The violin would chime, it would bellow, it would ring
    A bittersweet melody, a voice from its strings

    So pampered and greedy was this monster he weded
    Each night he came home was a time that he dreaded
    She spent all his money on her clothing, her hair
    She left not a dime, not a penny to spare
    She hated his music, his clothes, and his face
    She thought him a mess, a total disgrace

    Many nights the poor man locked away in his den
    Played a bittersweet melody again and again
    To dry the tears from his eyes, he stared at his strings
    As they told him stories of horrible things
    “Think of the wonders!” said the strings with a sneer
    “We’d be rich! We’d be famous! …if that girl wasn’t here…”

    The violin would chime, it would bellow, it would ring
    A bittersweet melody, a voice from its strings

    Hours turned to days and days into weeks
    The wife didn’t change, the future seemed bleak
    The violinist was tired, his words were no use
    He couldn’t just sit and take the abuse
    So alone in his den, he played and he played
    And he sat in his loneliness, alone with his aide

    The violin would chime, it would bellow, it would ring
    A bittersweet melody, a voice from its strings

    Early one morning before first light broke
    He peered in her bedroom at her vulnerable throat
    He slipped in the room with barely a sound
    And he peered out the window, there’s no one around
    He took up his one and only tool that he knew
    And loosened a peg until off a string flew

    She shrieked for a moment, but just in surprise
    In just a moment the light dimmed from her eyes
    Tighter and tighter until her body grew limp
    Her hand fell to the floor with her perfect gold crimp
    The violinist, at peace, took the string from the corpse
    Wrapped it around the peg, surprised it not warped


    The violin would chime, it would bellow, it would ring
    A bittersweet melody, a voice from its strings

    A violinist he was, and all the town knew
    By his violin who sang, strings straight and true
    He’d retighten the strings, each morning, each night
    Each string with care, each perfectly tight
    With his bow at the ready, he pulls out a note
    Violin under chin, and fingers on it’s throat