Celestia had retired to bed
With a pack of ice on her head
To help ease the pain
Of a bad migraine.
She rested beneath the bedspread.
As she fell into cake-filled dreams,
Her headache became more extreme,
As the bassoon tones
Vibrated her bones
She sat up and let out a scream.
From the chamber beneath Luna’s floor
Came a cry: “I can’t take any more!
“Just let me sleep.
“You make me weep.”
Celestia hammered on her door.
Luna felt obliged to retort,
“Oh Tia you bad spoil-sport.
“Do not be so mean.
“I play for my team.
“The orchestra needs my support.”
Tia snarled at the bassoon trainee.
“You call that a sweet melody?
“That crass caterwaul
“Is a banshee’s call.
“It’s worse than DJ-PON-3.”
“Don’t you dare insult friends of mine!
“You shallow witless philistine!
“Your taste is vulgar.
“This is real culture.
“Great music is truly divine.”
“Well if you will act the buffoon
And will not put down that bassoon—”
* A spell was cast *
* A star-struck blast *
Luna was banished to the moon.