In the beginning you had a job but you were just
becoming part of the mob. Clocking in at eight
and out at five and the wages they paid barely
kept you alive.A job for life as it was then but
once you reached eighteen you may have had
ten.A job was a Job although it paid a low wage
but you were growing up and this was the first stage.
An office worker with a bowler hat and a brolly,
Yes they were the ones that earnt the lolly.
If you were late your pay was cut by a quater of an
hour but what could you do the top men had power.
A char Lady, a sweatshop or a factory worker
not one of them was ever called a lazy shirker.
Rat race or not it never mattered what, people done
their job and they were proud of what they got.
Home from work without a fat pay packet, but people
were happy because they could build their own little
racket. A job on the side so the tax man could be denied
So go back to basics to stop your life spinning and do as
they did, start at the beginning
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
and I guess we are no happier now for all the luxury we have. Excellent idea Sylvie and I think you've pulled this off really well with an enjoyable read and a super style. Steve x