J. S. Bach had a little problem. J. S. Bach was in a fix.
J. S. Bach couldn’t find an answer.
What to do? I’ve written most of a rather fabulous work!
Toccata, it’s in D minor, but now I’m feeling a bit of a jerk.
I can’t think of what should come after it.
Now, said his wife, who was resting up after her 33rd child,
Johann, my dear, you should just go to bed. Something always comes up.
Don’t be a twit! It’s a real crisis and I’m working to a deadline. What can I fit?
What to fit after the great toccata? Maybe it needs to be something faster.
I haven’t got a clue and in a week the piece is due!
I’m in a panic! I’m stuck like glue!
Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Johann.
Those are only notes, you’ve always said.
There’s only twelve so use your head!
How many arrangements of twelve notes can there possibly be?
That’s a problem I don’t want to deal with.
How many permutations on C and D and E and F and G, A, B is a thing that I never heard of.
You can leave that to Arnold Schönberg — he is the person to do that twelve-tone thing.
No! No! It isn’t the answer. I haven’t the foggiest. What am I gonna do?
I’m all in a panic! Aaah, no! What can I do?
I’ve finished my toccata but I have no fugue!
Ah… and now I’ve got the fugue!