A Troubadour Wannabe

In a land of troubadours and song, A young man dreamed he would belong, With heart afire and passions strong, He set out to join the throng. He practiced every single day, Learning scales and melodies to play, And practiced singing in every way, Hoping his talents would soon sway. But when he joined the troubadour's guild, He found his hopes and dreams were killed, His voice was croaky, his songs were shrill, And his rhymes would make your ears feel ill. The other troubadours mocked his skill, And called him "wannabe" with a thrill, But he refused to let their words still, For he knew he had a different thrill. He turned to comedy and satire, And found his voice began to inspire, With humor and wit, he set the fire, And his listeners soon began to admire. So he may not be a troubadour, But his poetry still has allure, With comic lines and laughter pure, He knows his calling is to endure.