Please Mr Reaper Poem by Daniel J Robertson

Cutting my teeth on the black mail,
The hunger, the chainmail
I came wrapped in.

Sorry I didn't mean to butt in but there be
Something lurking on your collar.

Welcome to the sweat line
Where yours be mine and mine be mine
And we be mining to the root of the problem.

'No Problem' he said, face red, burning and
Gurning as he twitched in his seat under
The heat of interrorogation.

But he refused to give as living he said
Came first and foremost.