It’s Malipiero in the morning,
And Nancarrow at noon;
Stravinsky some time after,
And Nono none too soon.

The evening’s left to Elgar,
By midnight, after Toch
I’ll slumber along with Debussy,
And wake five times with Bloch.

The day is made with music,
To distract me from the pain
Of politicians pushing Promise
And the voters’ sad refrain:

“The other side’s more evil!”
And other dubious talk.
It’s why this secret I reveal:
“The answer lies in Bach.”