I HEAR America singing, the varied carols I hear;
Those of mechanics—each one singing his, as it should be, blithe and strong;
The carpenter singing his, as he measures his plank or beam,
The mason singing his, as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work;
The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat—the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck;
The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench—the hatter singing as he stands;
The wood-cutter’s song—the ploughboy’s, on his way in the morning, or at the noon intermission, or at sundown;
The delicious singing of the mother—or of the young wife at work—or of the girl sewing or washing—Each singing what belongs to her, and to none else;
The day what belongs to the day—At night, the party of young fellows, robust, friendly,
Singing, with open mouths, their strong melodious songs.
- Walt Whitman, "I Hear America Singing," 1867
I HEAR America singing, the off-key auditions I hear;
Those of game show contestants—each one singing hers, as it should be, blithe and strong;
The juggler singing his, as he tosses his bowling ball or flaming torch,
The rapper singing his, as he makes ready for rhymes, or leaves off rhymes;
The magician singing what belongs to him in his hat—the dancer singing on the shiny stage;
The contortionist singing as she curls into a box—the yodeler singing as he, uh, yodels;
The piano-player's song—the daredevil's, on his way in the morning, or at the noon intermission, or at sundown;
The delicious singing of the mother—or of the young wife with no talent—or of the girl giggling or crying—Each singing what belongs to her, and to none else;
The day what belongs to the day—At night, the party of young fellows, goofy, awkward,
Singing, with open mouths, their strong melodious auditions.
Chuck Baudelaire, "I Hear America's Got Talent," 2011
Happy Birthday, America, you crazy land I love!
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