FRANZ JOSEPH HAYDN
[Born in Rohrau, Austria—1732-1809.]
How often when a little chap
On Haydn's shoulders fell the strap.
E'er he was six as if a man
His struggles with the world began.
His parents could not write nor read.
A cousin said, "I'll gladly feed
And clothe young Joseph, who can sing
And to my pockets money bring."
But little food he gave to him
And plenty of the sharp peach limb.
When Joe then lost his tuneful voice
His cousin gave to him no choice
But turned him out to earn his way—
'Tis said he worked both night and day,
And, working thus, young Haydn rose
Far, far above his friends and foes.
Rich he became and gained great fame
While all musicians love his name.
His greatest work was The Creation
And artists of most every nation
Ever bow down at his knee
As "Father of the SYMPHONY."