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Working Days

Some days I am a boss.
I get cross as hell with the workers.
Sack a few, bring new ones in.
Scare them to death with targets to be met.
On others I’m a poor hard grafting soul,
Sweeping round feet for a pittance, no more.
Doffing my cap at each well pressed suit.
The girls in the office all think I’m so cute.
Yet it does me no good, no good at all,
as next day I throw myself out on the dole.

15 Jun 18

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