Dean Whitbread 2020
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A young lad from way out of town
Just couldn’t hold any job down,
Try as he might
To hold on real tight,
Employment, he let himself down.The young lad turned into a geezer
And met a nice girl called Theresa,
They shagged and shacked up
Raised several pups,
And fed them on chips from the freezer.But ambitions inside him still burned,
And the geezer became quite concerned,
He longed for the day
He’d collect full pay
For a hard-working week, money earned.“Theresa,” he said, “I must find
A role of the fully paid kind,
For this life of less
Causes such duress
That I’m slowly going out of my mind!”He set off to put this to rights.
One week, seven days, seven nights
He knocked upon doors,
He mopped up wet floors;
A career of respectable heights,‘Til exhausted, he barely could stand
But finally, held in his hand
The scant wages of graft,
And oh, how he laughed –
For it was so much less than he’d planned.He returned to his wife and his sprogs,
And was greeted with bread, beer and snogs,
He explained that he’d learned
You must never return
If you’re valued no better than dogs.
