Volume
​
Listen to me. There’s no doubt
That when I speak I have to shout
In restaurant or theatre bar
My dulcet tones must travel far
Everyone must hear my voice
The decibels give them no choice
I speak as though my friends are deaf
It makes no difference Tom or Geoff
Sybil, Cyril, Melanie
I shout indiscriminately
My laugh isn't bright or sunny
But you must know I find things funny
My false, brash cackle has been known
To shatter glass just like a stone
If I was in a large arena
You could tell by my demeanour
I’d not need an amplifier
I can turn my volume higher
Pierce the eardrums of the crowd
By talking oh so very loud
In beauty salon, nail bar
You can hear me from afar
I spout fatuous anecdotes
And ram them down my listeners’ throats
I offer my opinions smugly
And with a raucous voice that's ugly
You’ll hear it in the supermarket
From my car just as I park it
In cinemas when all is quiet
Sometimes I can start a riot
As I bawl my drivel out
I’m treasured as a Brussels sprout
Cold and tasteless on a plate
I bet you can hardly wait
To see me sit down in a diner
I am sure there’s nothing finer
Overhearing tales of woe
Like when my motor wouldn’t go
Or how I got my breasts enlarged
And when my phone was barely charged
Or how my bulldog (French of course)
Was nearly trampled by a horse
How Roger lost a big promotion
Our cruise upon the Indian Ocean
When all the loos on land were smelly
How Roger got his Delhi Belly
How my Botox failed to take
And my persistent tummy ache
Now all the world can hear my tales
Speaking loudly never fails
To entertain the silent masses
The rich, the poor, the working classes
Let them hear me I don’t care
My life’s so boring, let me share
The details of my sad existence
I take the path of least resistance
Bawling out my tales of woe
Now I must stop. I have to go
And bore my husband Roger who
Works for the Inland Revenue
And really I could be no prouder
When we’re out he’s even louder
