William T. Power
If there’s a perfect job for everyone
There’s only one for me
I must be the boss of everyone
And everything I see
The thing that makes me happy
Is telling people what to do
So cook my food and wash my car
Or I will fire you
You say you’re not my servant
That isn’t my concern
Everyone must serve me
And today it is your turn
My feet are awfully dirty
They have calluses and corns
So get on your knees and wash them
Or you will feel my scorn
Don’t make haste; hop to it
I’ve got meetings to attend
It’s senseless to resist me
I will neither break nor bend
Funny thing about this place is
My doors lock from outside
And it seems I must be shackled
Just to take a ride
I demand to have a chat with
The chap who runs this place
Though this outfit is well-organized
The protocol’s a disgrace
A fellow of my stature
Must be held in high esteem
Am I really in the psycho ward
Or is this just a dream?
by Richard W. Bray
Laughter hope sock in the eye's Blog 