'Tis the sound of the trumpet, the clarion call
Of the only horn ever preceding the Fall,
The sound of divinity, reaching through sound
To brighten the heart of the souls on the ground.
The brass of the Gods, of the angels and zephyrs
As greater than others as Jove among heifers!
And who is the owner, the artist who plays it?
When most every mortal doth fail who essays it?
'T is the one and the only, the mighty Rapaire
Whose sounds are so golden, who fing'ring so fair!
So honor him loudly, call his name to announce it.
But ignore what he says when you go to pronounce it!
The fair lass with flair on the stair in her lair
Gives evidence plain, 't is pronuncéd Rapaire