Played through an amplifier and in front of a live audience, this sounds a bit different from my original recording, so I hope you’ll forgive the duplication - as well as a couple of little stumbles! At Wimbledon, each summertime, for two enchanting weeks, There's nothing more amazing than the players' grunts and shrieks When they verbalise their efforts to whack a tennis ball. At sweet sixteen young Sally is the loudest of them all. Where every uh! becomes an errrh! Each ooh! Becomes an aaaahh! It's what they call a tennis racket; Shes a tennis star. When Sally's playing tennis, until she gets in front, Every time she hits the ball, she gives a little grunt. But as she starts to get on top, the sounds become less meek And when she's truly in the zone, the grunt becomes a shriek. Opponents who complain about it simply make her seethe: "Oh, you cannot be serious! I suppose I shouldn't breathe! They may be jealous of my looks, but I really I'm surprised So much is being made about big breaths and little sighs." Many people thought her grunts were getting out of hand Unless the cause is medical, we think they should be banned. They sent her to a doctor but the only thing he'd say Was, "She should take some sennapods; she shouldn't strain that way." In her bedroom last night, with her boyfriend, Sally thought She'd moderate her grunts and shrieks in case her parents caught Her; they were downstairs in the living room, but up they never came. "Oh listen, Dad," said Mum ...