So small a credential
Acquaintances converged
For me they are here
My accomplishments merged
Four years of labor
And many more before
The air filled with pomp
Sounds of circumstance flourish
Into the world I'm thrust
Expectations have grown
But chances are small
Success far away
The world is sad
The jobs are bad
No paychecks are had
I'm about to go mad
What will tomorrow bring
When I can't see today
And circles are my path
With no where to go
I am told I have grown
An adult I am now
My own way I must find
In a world of miry clay
No gold for my pocket
No silver for my table
The fish are not biting
Mom brings me my bread
Back to the want ad
Best work suit am clad
Employment my new fad
And life will be glad
The world is sad The jobs are bad No paychecks are had I'm about to go mad ................. good one! - - - But, Darlene, why look for a job, when you can hook up with Bob? Ok, you've hooked up with Bob, and he's given you a good job. As long as with Bob you're in tow, there'll be lawns for you to mow. “miry”? I thought you had made a word out of mire, but I guess it already existed. who knew? I guess things are going alright since the poem was written. did you get my graduation gift? bri :)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
We pretty much all go through the job bit kiddo I presume this was a while ago.