When you're shopping down at Aldi

There's no music from Vivaldi

Or any one composer you could name.

 

But there is a constant sound

That can follow you around

As you stand in line and play the waiting game.

 

The goods you've bought slide past you as you wait

To pay for them and isn't it just great

That you don't have to sit and check them one by one

Like the check-out chick or bloke, it can't be fun.

 

For each item there's a never ending ping

And I do believe you do not want to sing

As you  hear each little noise,

I'm so sorry girls and boys

For I do believe it cannot be your thing.

 

To hear this sound so boring

It's a wonder you're not snoring

You'll be so glad when at last you fling

Yourself out of the shop

Then at last the ping will stop

And you're so tired of it you feel that you could drop.