Her music’s torment even to her love

No noise had ever irked him like her thrums.
His head ached and he even shed some tears
Thank the Lord,she’d chucked out all their drums.
No music was so painful to his ears

No sound was sharper than her speaking voice.
No lullabies would cross her cold drawn lips.
He’d like to fly away to hotels choice
To escape the barrage of her clever quips.
No guitar man made would emote in her hands.
No tutor could impart the tragic gift.
She’d cause commotion in some lurid band;
Or soon be sent to sea and set adrift
.For if a woman’s born tone deaf and dumb
From her hands no joyous note shall come.
She can’t be mended by arabic gum.
She’ll rile the neighbours with your kettle drum

Published by Katherine