It truly is hard being this beautiful. And all the boys just sing the same song.

It truly is hard being this beautiful. And all the boys just sing the same song.
They will never understand us. We’re not really geese, we’re shelducks, and we don’t honk, we sing.
Another Sunday, again the lead in the church choir, but this week I’ll sing like Pavaroti.
I’m so glad you noticed my beauty, Peter but sing to me what you feel . . .
Never mind those red-bellied birds, I am the best looking woodpecker in this wetland. And I sing
What can I tell you, the chicks love a Mohawk. And a singer to boot.
Open your hymnals to Hymn 452, rise and let us sing.