No, opera’s not for me!
Why should I be forced
To sit and listen
to those people caterwauling
in a language I don’t understand,
But I must join the others,
Probably listen to them moaning,
Such a miserable lot.
Hello, what’s this?
It’s a YOUNG man
Sitting at the piano,
I don’t know that song,
I said I wouldn’t enjoy it!
What’s that?
Wow a beautiful YOUNG girl
She is going to sing to us
I don’t know…,
Yes, I have heard that song,
Heard it before
But I don’t know where.
Her voice is mesmerising,
How could I not enjoy it?
Is this opera?
Have I been so blinded
And missed all this wonder?
There are three more
Singing another song,
A song I have heard.
Look, there is Agnes,
She has never smiled
But she is beaming.
And Jane, forever asleep,
Looking up, her eyes wide open.
I know this song very well,
They want us to join.
Look even Fred is joining in,
Mouth open,
Eyes shining,
Arms waving.
Even I am doing it!
Singing!
Singing opera!
Those voices before us
Are inspiring,
Awe inspiring.
All around me are happy,
Even Joe in the corner,
Never smiled to my knowledge,
He is almost laughing.
Can opera really be so powerful,
Powerful enough,
To get a bunch of miserable old people
To become happy,
Happy and cheerful,
Listening to songs,
Songs of such passion
That the passion that we once had
Stirs within us once more?
Yes, it can.
Days later we can still hear it,
Still sing it.
As we walk along the corridor
Greeting each other with a song,
“Toreador! La la la laa la laaa”;
The beams on our faces
As the wonder of that afternoon
Brings smiles to us all.
Yes, opera is for me!