A grand time with Hung Wu

(A Tribute in Verse)

For thirty years and more Galliard has played,
In concert halls and chamber shade.
Through music’s highs and winding bends,
We've journeyed long with one true friend.

With bow in hand, he's ever near,
Prepared, composed, with soul sincere.
He greets each note with patient grace,
A steady light in every place.

He’s never late, not once unkind,
With thoughtful words and nimble mind.
Rehearsals bloom with warmth and cheer—
We laugh so much, work disappears!

From banter shared o'er meals and tea,
To talk of steak and potpourri—
A foodie's heart, with chef's finesse,
He feeds his cats with no less zest.

Each item cherished, cared for well—
His car, his pens, his bows can tell.
He roasts his beans with loving care,
A ritual, precise and rare.

But what endures through time and strain,
Through tight deadlines and last-minute strain,
Is not just skill, but something more—
A gentle strength we still adore.

He listens deep, he plays with heart,
He knows just how to shape each part.
No storm of ego, no harsh tone,
He never lets one feel alone.

“Don’t worry, friends. It will be fine.”
A phrase that makes the stars align.
In tough times, he brings calm and light—
A quiet anchor, always right.

So here’s to Wu Hung, kind and true,
A joy to work beside, and through—
These years of music, food, and fun—
A grand time shared with a gracious one.