Old School Management Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

Director D. described his drive
as 'urge to acquisition',
and so did nothing but contrive
to prop up his position:
his happiness would still derive
deferring all decision.

To drone as master of the hive
implies some sense of mission,
and so he primed his poisoned chive
with silent, spot precision,
colleagues who tried to look alive
were stifled by suspicion.

To toil four hours, sometimes five,
was felt an impositon,
for lunch, however, he'd arrive
poor corporate politician.
In order corpulence to shrive,
the firm paid his physician.

In idleness most do connive
lest one gain recognition,
invention rive, repress, don't strive,
in supine supposition
that someday something may arrive
to save them, superstition!

Without incentive we deprive
ourselvees of hope, of vision.
Enthusiasm some would stive,
there's no sin like commission!
Where dreams of grandeur we'd revive,
we'll overcome derision.

Tomorrow should stop Sterling's dive
as we shrug off submission
for no Industry can thrive
on inner dereliction,
with impulse, stong will to survive,
we'll break out date tradition!