Lady, you who sing soprano, Just across the court, Won't you tune that bum piano? Life at best is short, And you're making mine much briefer With those jangling strings As you sing of love or grief or Various other things. While your voice is something fearful, It's the best you've got. I must bear it and be cheerful (Though, of course, I'm not). Nature gave you that soprano, You can't alter that, But you @3can@1 tune that piano Which infests your flat. Lady, I am quite pacific, I can bear your song; Though the strain is most terrific I can get along. I will stand for that soprano With a sullen calm, But—you tune that bum piano Or I'll throw a bomb! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE UNCERTAINTY PRINCIPLE by JAMES GALVIN THE BLACK MONKEY by KATHERINE MANSFIELD THE LATE SINGER by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS NATURES COOK by MARGARET LUCAS CAVENDISH THE BIRTHNIGHT: TO F by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE LAMENT by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON THE SURRENDER AT APPOMATTOX [APRIL 9, 1865] by HERMAN MELVILLE |