Pfft.

Pfffft.

Pfffffttttt. Pfft. Pfft.

Pfft.

PFFFFFTTTTT!!!!!!

It’s one of life’s little mysteries
That’s never really bothered me
I’ve never been able to whistle, see
But I’m OK with that.

I’m not musically minded, though
And when I try it really shows
But I very often have a go
And I’m OK with that.

I can whistle a little bit
Very faint and quite high pitched
It actually sounds a little shigh
Yet I’m OK with that.

I find lately I hum a lot
As whistling I just cannot
Do. This poem’s gone to pot
Still I’m OK with that.

But whistlin’ and me, we don’t get on
And it’s terrible when I hear a song
And I simply have to pffffft along
‘Though I can live with that.

Pfffft.

A bit of fun for this week’s Brew’N’Spew Café; the link to Eugenia’s site is above.

15 Comments

  1. My dad was a great whistler and I’m quite good at it too, although my Gran used to quote this at me if she heard me whistling, “A whistling woman and a crowing hen is good to neither god nor men.” This didn’t deter me in the least. 😀

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I used to whistle along with the radio without even realizing I was doing it when I worked in an office many years ago. I’m sure my co-workers would have loved to throttle me! So don’t feel badly about your non-whistle – it may save your life! 😉

    Liked by 1 person

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