Lament of an Alto II

The few, the proud, the Alto Twos,
The black sheep of the chorus--
Subjected to singing "ah"s and "ooh"s
With too few notes before us.

We harmonize with grace and ease
Yet no one seems to hear us;
Dreams of warbling melodies
Are just enough to cheer us.

Sopranos tend to bask in praise
When their high Cs break glass;
We're granted no more than a gaze
From the careless mass.

When girls sing low it's nothing new;
It's no important feat--
Yet everything the basses do
Sends revelers from their seats.

We've got the talent, that's for sure,
So why don't we get credit?
When all is said, I must concur--
Those critics just don't get it!