Soul music by Terry Pratchett
Bam-bam-a-bambam, bamBAM.
'Shave and a haircut good value for two pence,' said Lias.
Imp looked hard at the stones. Percussion wasn't approved of in Llamedos either. The bards said that anyone coul hit a rock or a hollow log with a stick. That wasn't music. Besides it was... and here they'd drop their voices... too animal.
The guitar hummed. It seemed to pick up sounds.
Imp suddenly had a nagging feeling that there was a lot you could do with percussion.
'Can I try?' he said.
He picked up the hammers. There was the faintest of tones from the guitar.
Forty-five seconds later, he put down the hammers. The echoes died away.
'Why did you hit me on the helmet at the end there?' said Glod, carefully.
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