Some folks just don't appreciate my singing.

Milkman’s letter,

Hey mister Lefty, I’m sure you knew,
I sell that milky lookin brew,
Just down the street a block from you,

Your singing ‘s pretty heavy stuff,
With prices high and wages tough,
It makes a living awful rough,

I’m sure the coyotes showed you how,
Cause the wailing howl that you do now,
Done soured my cream and mesmerized my cows,

Now rich I ain’t and my price is a joke,
But I’m just as likely to wind up broke,
If you don’t break a string or choke,

My gal friend you got down on me,
How can this impossible be?
Well, I had her wined and dined you see,

And when my line was about to send her,
Your Squally dang voice done broke my winder,

I’ve heard you don’t play song requests,
And not much else, would be my guess,

But here below consider mine,
My Gal likes music sweet and fine,

So tonight play something soft and low,
Like an old CD or the radio!