When Sam left school and started work
To be a butchers lad
Many friends thought he was hard
Though others thought him mad
The first day when he got there
He was given two white smocks
With blue and white striped aprons
So long they touched his socks
The size of smock he needed
Was a short sized thirty six
He got a long length forty-four
Were they just playing tricks?
Resembling a bag of rags
They’d clearly got it wrong
Could no one else within the shop
Not see they were to long
He tried to roll the sleeves up
Tied his apron with a pleat
It made him look more like a sack
And anything but neat
At this point he’d decided
Even though on his first day
When he found out those responsible
One day He’d make them pay
© 2008 David Threadgold
The Butchers Lad
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Adorable Sam! Loved this one, David, as I do all your creative and rhyming poems! A '10! ' from me, my friend! Warm Wishes, Marilyn