The Diva sings her opera & the
lounge-lizard croons,
The country singer yodels, to the
balladeer, his tunes,
The rocker blasts his heavies & pop is
forever heard,
Jazz, soul, blues, all about feeling, never
mind the words.
The nightingale loves trilling & so
does the morning lark,
The blackbird prettily warbles, in country
lanes & parks,
Mothers, at their daily chores, hum softly
to their babes,
To everyone their joyful song & to each,
their serenade.
But let´s not forget the cricket, gaily singing
in the trees,
Chirruping in through windows, his tune on evening
breeze,
Announcing change of seasons & of everything
that´s new,
So let us not forget, that the little cricket
humbly sings too.
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