As the natives of Bikini atoll clutch their worldly goods and flee,
tenor voices sing of «a gigantic shimmering mushroom, ever changing its form and color.»
Not exact matches
«One single
voice continues to
sing the
tenor, while at the same time many other
voices play around it, exulting and decorating it in exuberant strains, and as it were leading it forth in a divine roundelay,» wrote Luther in the Preface to Georg Rhau's Symphoniae Jucundae, 1538.
Just for the record: I have a very deep, husky female
voice, (I
sang tenor in the school choir for years), but, no, I don't resemble Roseanne, not unless Roseanne diets down to a size 1, that is.
He was an educated man, apt to discuss literature and
sing an aria in a
tenor voice.
The universe has a peculiar sense of humour, of course, and so I emerged as a pretty decent first
tenor, which meant I actually had to use this high
singing voice — and make the first of a number of emendations in my definition of masculinity.