Fired Up Folklore Flying fingers, Tapping toes, Big-tooth smile, A rosined bow. Out the f holes Notes explode, Bringing joy To all exposed. Infecting you With pulse and beat, Make you move Those dancing feet. My, that little Box can sing. Crazy, wooden, Ancient thing. It sings to bring Us all together Where new friends meet And old friends gather. Cheers to you my dear, May we always share In music, Friendship, And good beer.