if I were to sing a song of myself
it'd probably be out of tune
no-one would listen or they'd start to boo
but I'd croon & I'd croon & I'd croon
doe ray ME doe ray ME
I would croak joyfully
it won't be bravura
or coloratura
I'm better at bawling
& cool caterwauling
attempting a high note
would damage my throat
I might strain my larynx
methinks
some voices are golden
but mine's more like tinsel
so I'd remain poor
as a wandering minstrel
I have no desire
for a heavenly choir
I'll sing unaccompanied in the bath
as I lather my limbs
I'll improvise hymns
keeping time with my loofah just for a laugh
kazoo in hand
I'm a one-man-band
I'll take it from here
& play it by ear
blow my own trumpet as one of my turns
hey diddle diddle
with my little fiddle
I'll scrape like old Nero while Rome burns
I'll wake all the locals
with my solo vocals
& though they throw tomatoes
I still will not cease
till I get arrested
for disturbing the peace
I'm not a he-man
nor much of a glee-man
but no psalm of David was ever such fun
as the ditties I'll twitter before I am done
