The crooners of old, they took pride in their song,
Expecting all hearers to follow along.
The era of rock? On the whole (what the heck)
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We’d turn to the liners of albums to check
Occasional words which we couldn’t discern;
Yet lyrics weren’t something the singers would spurn.
But now when I listen to music produced,
A warbling trill is the fashion unloosed;
And half of the lyrics I get, but the rest
Are muddled at worst, or seem nonsense at best.
I’ll offer one thought how these lyrics are strung:
Perhaps not yet written, they’re nonetheless sung?
Don Munday, email@example.com