Just A Few Short Notes


Sometimes I warble while I’m bathing,

Much to Gwen’s chagrin.
She pleads with me, through moistened eyes,
To cease that awful din.

I lubricate my larynx with some soap,

But never lye.
And only if I find the notes are hanging

Much too high.


              
          

And Freud would have a heyday with some notes
That I’ve released.
They’re lower than a lawyer with its forehead

Sharply creased.


        


I hit a lemon, now and then, so that’s
When Gwen objects.

       

She clears her throat to speak and with
Affection interjects;


   

”I know I’m just a cat who lacks the
Proper music cred…
But I’d be much obliged if you’d scoot down,
AND SOAK YOUR HEAD!”

        







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