When the original Only Yules & Verses book was self-published in 2013, an unsolicited comment appeared on Amazon. I call stuff like this little nudges of encouragement. Of course, for every flattering nudge, there are several pokes in the eye waiting in the wings. Here’s the comment:
“Only Yules and Verses is one of those special little books that you happen upon serendipitously. I have read authors' blurbs before extolling the mirth to be found in THEIR book only to buy the book and be severely disappointed. What an unexpected joy, therefore, to pick up this little gem and read it to the end with smiles, a few laughs out loud and some headshakes at the ingenuity of Joe Cushnan. I thoroughly enjoyed this and wholeheartedly recommend it to everyone.
P.S. I am not a friend or family member of the author, but how I wish I were!”
CAROL SINGER
Carol Singer, the carol singer
Practiced every night
To keep her voice in top-notch trim,
So clear, so crisp and bright.
On Christmas Eve the gathered choir
Wished her solo well,
She took a breath but nothing came,
Not a decibel.
Carol Singer, the carol singer,
Hot lemon drinks and steam,
Lived through the nightmare
That should have been a dream.
She lost her voice and panic struck,
So many lozenges to suck,
A singer without the vocal touch
Is frankly less than nothing much.
Carol Singer, the carol singer,
Next Christmas looks so bleak,
For will the virus strike again
And make her voice go weak?
Like all those oldie movies
In creaky black and white,
Her only option left could be
A mime of Silent Night.
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