The cajon at first glance appears to be simply a box
Sitting there stoic and sturdy as an ox
How about you go sit on it, give it a tap
It's a drum set you see, you fell in the trap
You didn't think a box could lay down such beats
To make a crowd ooh and ahh in the streets
It has a kick and a snare and all sorts of tones
They chop and change like a pack of hormones