A former journalist and English teacher, he writes short fiction and songs. Tyrranoctarus turned out to be a big turkey after all.Īdrian Brookes grew up in the English West Midlands but has lived most of his life in Australia. While looking at forums for information I found that this sax is. As far as I can tell from my research, it is the AS3220 model, which the company lists as their intermediate series. Its malice it bent down on me, struck out in my amaze,Īnd, caught unwisely unawares, I staggered in a daze.īut Lahdidah was not done yet her flung rock smote its snoutĪnd chanced my steel to slice its throat and bleed the blighter out.Īnd so that night at festive feast we gorged upon our game,Ĭontent that our brave escapade had spared dear Cook his shame,įor faced with knightly valour in reply to virtue’s call, This is an Antigua Winds alto sax in fantastic condition with a stunning black nickel-plated finish and gold keys. With fangs a-glint and lyric-lips once more all froth and snot.
This instrument resides in the center of the Antigua. This is the instrument that can take you from your first lesson to the conservatory. Same specifications as Model TS3220LQ with Bright Silver-plated. A versatile performer, the AS3220 has elegant style, expressive tone, magical feel and solid construction. The best in the industry Antigua Winds TS3220SL Bb Tenor Silver Plated Saxophone with Case. ’Twas Princess Lahdidah! Oh, fie! My caution I let slip,Īs ‘Grrrrrrr,’ quoth Tyrranoctarus, its melody forgot, Loaded with features, the AS3220 is in a class all its own. Who woke from her enchanted dream deep in its ghastly lair.īut whence the wail-and who the maid clutched in that devil’s grip? With velvet verse of silvered psalm it lured a maiden fair, That conjured choirs on wayward winds to sing in sleeping ears. It was the Tyrranoctarus! Fount of all fiendish fears, That blazed with wrath as I strode in t’effect my enterprise. ‘Thyself restore our merry meats, for I must do or die.’Īnd lo! By fate a cave I spied, red-lit from fiery eyes ‘Save thy sobs, thou sweltered swain,’ said I as I swept by, Old goose got wind of his sad plight and now he’s flown the coop.’ When Cook cried out, ‘Oh stay, sire, pray, for we’re reduced to soup! Make thunder of his mighty hooves and prove the prince of speed,
There echoed from far dark domains a fraught and fearsome wail-Ī noble quest! To arms I’d sprung and bid my loyal steed On Christmas morn in Camelot, as dawn was waking pale,