Singing From My Boots

SINGING FROM MY BOOTS I cannot sing with perfect pitch, run up the scale, or down to switch. I cannot sing in chords of E, or vocalize in any key. To hit a Sharp, will B a Flat, I'm singing impaired, and That is That! If there are four to harmonize, then, tape my mouth for no surprise. My throat can't copy what you sing, my lips will tighten; my ears will ring. The lyrics are known but, the tune is dead, and the scales keep running in my head. Yet when I go to hear a band, I stand and sing; I think I'm grand. The symphony will make me hum, all parts of Mozart's requiem. And when the Opera is my treat, I make vibrato trill and sweet. I hear the soloist croon with flutes, he's singing loud and from his roots. All I can hope when I open my mouth, is north sounding notes, that never go south. So if I stand with noteworthy troupes, know that I'll sing from down in my boots. -Edlynn Nau August 18, 2015