illustration friday: vocal

Don't be puzzled, I'm just late with my vocals. Sorry. This is the story of my father as a little boy and the destructive influence of a teacher on his vocal carreer. One day when he was singing out loud, she barked at him: You are growling, my friend! From that moment on he stopped singing, till... he married my mother. Every morning he wakened her with a cuppa tea and a song, false as an old pyjama. Those are the words: Tea is coming, tea is coming, tea is there!