The alto’s lament

It’s tough to be an alto when you’re singing in the choir,
The Sopranos get the twiddly bits that people all admire,
The basses boom like loud trombones, the tenors shout with glee,
But the alto part is on two notes, (or if you’re lucky, three).

And when we sing an anthem and we lift our hearts in praises
The men get all the juicy bits and telling little phrases.
Of course, the trebles sing the tune – they always come off best;
While altos only get three notes and twenty-two bars rest.

We practice very hard each from hymnbook and the psalter,
But when the conductor looks at us our voices start to falter;
“Too high! Too low! Too fast! Too slow! – You held that note too long!”
It doesn’t matter what we do – It’s certain to be wrong.

Oh! shed a tear for altos, they’re the Martyrs and they know
In the ranks of choral singers they’re considered very low.
They are so very ‘umble that a lot of folk forget ‘em;
How they’d love to be sopranos, but their vocal chords won’t let ‘em.

And when the final trumpet sounds and we are wafted higher,
Sopranos, basses, tenors – they’ll be in the Heavenly Choir.
While they sing “Alleluia” to celestial flats and sharps,
The altos will be occupied with polishing the harps.

Original Author thought to be Bob the Organist of Sutton Coldfield.