The Workaholic Poem by Francis Duggan

He retired from his job on his sixty fifth birthday
But he did not enjoy the work free life
And he died just nine months into his retirement
To be mourned by his family and his wife.

It has been said he was a workaholic
And that he was one who worked as hard as two
And he felt bored without a job to go to
And he pined away as many like him do.

His problem was he did not have a hobby
And a working life the life he loved and knew
A good man for his wife and family and his Country
But good men just like bad men must die too.

For forty seven years he worked for the same employers
And to the end to his bosses was true
His parting gift from them a wrist watch and box of chocolates
And a well done and a shake hands and thank you.

He must have been one who truly liked his bosses
To have worked for them for forty seven years
His last day on the job it was his saddest
And as he left he fought to choke the tears.

His problem was that he did not have a hobby
And he only lived for each working day
And when he left the workforce in his sixties
He fell into ill health and pined away.