Several list members have contributed some moving verses on the romantic sound of the alphorn. It happens that I have been translating some poems (found in the collection Des Knaben Wunderkohl), and I thought that the following might bring a tear to your eye.

Oh, many a heartsick wanderer
   While grieving or forlorn
Has heen cheered by the plaintive playing
   Of a far-off alpenhorn.

          ********

I walked through the woods at midnight
   With feelings of dark despair,
For I wondered, if my life ended,
   Would anyone even care?

I trudged on the dim-lit pathway
   With many a mope and moan,
When I heard a soft sound in the distance--
   'Twas a far-off mellophone!

It called and it swelled and echoed,
   It rang the whole forest through.
I was touched to my heart as I heard it.
   (I was touched to my stomach, too.)

So I ran till I found a clearing
   By a brook in the heart of the wood,
Where a dwarf, with a smile and a dimple
   And an E flat mellophone stood.

I asked what he thought he was doing,
   He replied, "My beloved friend,
I am the Woodland Horn-Elf:
   It is I that the Horn-Gods send.

"They send me to those in the forest
   Who suffer from pain or fear:
When I play on my merry mellophone
   Their hearts are filled with cheer!"

I stared at the elf dumbfounded.
   "You cretinous oaf!" I cried,
"Your playing is so outrageous
   That I contemplate gnome-icide!

"Your timbre is coarse and flatulent!
   Your embouchure drips with drool!
Your phrasing sucks! And as for pitch....
   Oh, give me that thing, you fool!"

I grabbed for his horn as he held it,
   I tugged and I set it free.
Then I smashed his egregious mellophone
   On the trunk of a nearby tree.

As I hurried away from that clearing,
   I heard the elf sob and groan;
But I felt much better, knowing that I
   Had silenced his mellophone.

              *******

Oh, many a heartsick wanderer,
   While grieving or forlorn,
Has been cheered by the plaintive playing
   Of a far-off alpenhorn.

But if you are not so lucky,
   Then do not despair or curse:
Or the Horn-Elf will play his mellophone
   And make you feel even worse.

I would like to dedicate this poem to my dog, Earl.

gotta go

Cabbage

When Dennis Brain blew his Raoux,
The second horn player cried, "Waoux!"
Greatly irked, Dennis sighed
And with menace replied,
"Hey, chill out, man! Don't have a Caoux!"

Gotta gaoux,

Cabbage