Many of us can’t sing but we sing anyway

Here’s what happened to us one day

Joe drives our van but wasn’t available

Barbara, having a license, was capable

But she had to lead the next activity

So she turned to her assistant, Beverly

“Emergency, gotta drive, you take over the game”


But alas, it would not be the same.

Beverly arrived in the lounge in a hurry

She passed out leaflets in a flurry

Then sat in the middle of a stir

With a CD player beside her

“We’re having a sing-along

With some favorite old songs,”

Bev said, “the words are in your leaflet

And the tunes will play on the CD set.”


The 16 pages had oldies that might be fun

But we probably should have cut and run

Sample titles were:

Hail, Hail, the Gang’s All Here

Alexander’s Ragtime Band

Let Me Call You Sweetheart

Bicycle Built for Two

Home on the Range

We bravely began and chaos reigned

We were all out of tune and together we pained

The CD wasn’t loud enough for us to hear

                                             A man sang first and a woman brought up the rear.


The lobby was noisy with folks milling around

Conversations in the background added to the sound

 But nothing or nobody could defeat our din

We were into it now singing louder to win

Yes, of our dozen one man slept

Our one real musician silently wept

Two or three of the group hummed along

Two or three others mumbled the song.


Then a strange mood fell over the rest

We sang loudly, with gusto, our best

We sang freely with pure delight, glad…

We weren’t concerned with good or bad

We were singing with others just like us…

No critics, judges, fault finders, or fuss


It felt good, so good to sing out at last

Inhibition was a thing of the past.

Virginia L. Wylie

Note:  Those who will never understand pronounced our sing-along “terrible, awful, a disaster.”

What do they know?  But maybe if there is a next time we’ll find some place to sing besides the lobby lounge.

Virginia resides in Brookdale Orange City, Florida and is the author of the poetry that appears here. The views and opinions expressed in this poetry are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of Brookdale Senior Living.


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