Pearl and I

Pearl and I had a relationship that could be described
As extraordinary
But me and my drum go back like old school chums
It’s kind of….legendary
 
I was a keen fifteen-year-old looking to fulfill a role
And I found it in a snare I’d care for as if it were a myth
At first, she felt kind of heavy, but I knew I was ready
Pearl was the best drum in the world to perform with
 
I learned my strokes from the folks who played her before
But Pearl would hurl me into long and extensive sessions
I’d twirl my sticks and try different tricks so very diverse
I’d rehearse so hard and be focused it was an obsession
 
With each rudiment I learnt it meant something rousing
The girls admired us in our Pearls as the section got cleaner
Sometimes when the drumline went home I’d stay behind
Banging away until the cops came for a “misdemeanor”
 
Yet there I was, perfecting combinations of flams and diddles
Getting the grip right, not too loose nor too tight but just fine
Every rim shot I got was loud and taut it would pop my ears
I’d reach new tiers to then teach them to the rest of the line
 
Sometimes Pearl and I would be alone in the practice room
I’d clean the shell and chrome then comb over her batter head
I’d check the hoops, the butt side strainer and the tension rods
Fine tuning the snare to bear the long performances ahead
 
The last time I played her was a day before my graduation
She’d be a new kid’s instrument, it was just the rule of thumb
As the graduating drum major I would be conducting the band
And that’s the story of Pearl and I, of me and my drum