If you don't like the sound, well that's just tough."
"There's a newfangled gadget we simply must try.
True love's often deaf, and off-key to prevail.
Said, "I'd rather sing poorly than not sing a bit.
Said, "Barney, my boy, you're a vocal nightmare!"
Where they both sang their vows to the horror of all hands.
But at least it's all me, and it's honestly true."
So sing from your heart, be it tenor or croak,
My voice may be rough, and my pitch may be skew,
Slick Pete, he insisted, grew red in the face,
For somewhere there's someone who'll get the joke.
It frightens small children and curdles the beer!"
His manager, Slick Pete, with pomade in his hair,
But Barney stood firm with his chin in the air,
My warbling's authentic, it's genuine stuff,
"I'll not have my voice altered, tweaked, or repaired!
He croaked out a ballad that solved life's great riddle.
Now Barney, he fancied himself quite the star,
Whose voice was as rough as a wire-brush on lard.
He'd warble and wail with the grace of a goat,
There once was a singer, old Barney McBard,
But by God, every song came straight from his throat.
"Without Auto-Tune, you're a bloody disgrace!
It'll fix your bum notes without breaking an arm."
Though his pitch was as wayward as sailors in bars.
Your voice is a crime, it's an assault on the ear,
They married next week in a ceremony grand,
But Barney just grinned and he picked up his git,
Singing pubs and small clubs, never making the grade.
It's called Auto-Tune, and it works like a charm,
Who thought Barney's voice was as sweet as her own.
"Fear not," said old Slick with a glint in his eye,
So Barney went on with his off-key crusade,
Now the moral, dear friends, of this musical tale:
For there in the crowd sat a tone-deaf old crone,
And one fateful night at the old Frog and Fiddle,