Oh, the "to my hearts",
how the unlocking of an organ plays a part.
Oh, the "to friendship"
how you know they'll never lose their grip
Oh, the "to long life",
how secrets keep you well away from strife
To pick is to obfuscate the meaning,
to gift is to know ones housekeeping.
To turn is to engage the bit,
to unlock is to release ones spirit.
They teach history as we walk below them
It is our guests to whom we bestow them
They keys to my heart
Will never split apart
The Baldpate poems are great if you know them
In the earliest day of the Baldpate, key donation was often accompanied by a clever poem surrounding the origin of the key. This inspired me to create a little poem of my own. Although my favorite poem that I have found so far is accompanied by the key to Mozart's wine cellar.
Key of A. Mozart
This Key has a history
That smacks of a mystery;
It came to us secretly, too.
An Austrian city,
Exceedingly pretty,
Gave us Mozart and all that he knew.
Its churches and towers
Are much older than ours;
Old Salzburg has little that's new.
It's famous old cellar
Is St. Peter's Keller
Where wine features every menu.
It's made by the priests
For their functions and feasts
And served to a fortunate few
In a cavern of rock
Near the Musical Clock
Where Mozart came daily to brew.
So welcome was he
They gave him a key
To a vault of his own special "dew."
Now Mozart is gone
But his spirt lives on,
So we're sending his key on to you.
Written by Adam Dohn
