A Bricklayers Lament Poem by sylvia spencer

I know an old tradesman who worked with sand and cement.
Now the story I am going to tell you turned out to be his lament.
His work was done to perfection built from row to row and he was
the very best bricky, the best you will ever know. when a job
was finished his tools had to be clean, because he was the boss
of a slap happy working team.They would put in the footings
then forget to build the wall and when they did it was
neither short or tall.They once built an house with an
extention on the side it was that badly built that no one could reside.
He had a young apprentice who soon became his hoddie,
he never let him lay the bricks because his work was always
shoddy.There were a couple of muckers who mixed
up the cement they were for ever subbing
so they never paid their rent.His labourers name was
Dodger who would work now and then, most of the time
was spent at The Bookies placing bets for other men.
He employed an incompetent plumber who always gave
him the pip, every job he went on he always left a drip.
He was a good Bricky I would say he was first class, but when it
came to team work they were just total 'Arse'