Professor of Percussion, Banging Pawl
Pawl was always a twitchy little guy,
But not to those with a musical eye.
His movements were never random,
His paws moved in perfect tandem
To a beat that raged inside his head
Even as he tried to sleep upon his bed.
Everything he did had a beat to it,
Even in the way Pawl went to sit.
His walk was always a bit like dancing,
His paws almost like he was prancing.
When he joined a band there was no question,
It only took one short decided suggestion.
Paul sat down behind the drums,
And banged out the beat, though he had no thumbs.
A mighty fine player, Pawl feverishly pounded
Unleashing his heart in the drums he sounded.
He knew then it was his calling,
Into destiny he was falling.
Now if you want to play with a stick,
You will find Pawl has a very different trick.
Before you know it he’ll have the stick in two
And will keep time and your feet will know what to do.
That is the magic of Banging Pawl,
No matter where he is he rocks them all.