Once more we saw them take the shining stage,
Those masters of a bright and joyful art;
Their music leapt beyond the printed page,
And found a dancing rhythm in the heart.
So many times we’ve gathered there to hear
The brass, the swing, the voices full and true;
Yet still they make the evening reappear
As fresh as if the night itself were new.
Each note was lit with laughter, grace, and fire,
Each song more fine than all that came before;
They lift the room, then carry spirits higher,
Until we love them deeper than before.
And when the final echoes fade from sight,
We count the days until their next good night.