My piano has keys eighty-eight
Thirty-six black, fifty-two white,

When my finger touches a key,
I start to fly, like a bumble-bee!
My fingers, they dance,
Piano, it yells!
But when I don’t want to stop doing so well,
The piece ends.
I have nothing to do – except bow and wait,
For a time I’ll be able to do it, again.