"At the factory"

Brian R. Baer

Moving springs and chiming gongs,
Eight o'clock has come and gone at the factory. Doot-un-doo.
Listless stares fall from blank eyes,
As factory workers try disguise,
To keep the boss from getting wise to their boredom;
To their boredom...

The boss's been there for thirty years,
He's lost his hopes but keeps the fear,
That soon they may not need him here;
"What am I to do?"
Ooo, ooo, ooo, ooo, ooo.

The lad on nights has gone astray,
You'll have to take his place,
But only for a month or so,
'til he can be replaced;
And your wage review is coming up,
But there's no need to fear,
As long as your vacation plans
Can wait another year...

He’s spent his life at one fine trade.
He's proud to say he's made the grade,
And it's too late for an early grave,
"I guess I've won at last!” Ooo, ooo, ooo, ooo, ooo.
“I guess I've won at last! I guess I've won at last!"

Well, what a life of total waste!
He seemed put here just to fill a space!
And he laughed at those who seemed out of place,
But still he labored on — still he labored on...

The boss worked there 'til sixty-five,
Received his pension as he died,
And it went to his wife,
Who survived him, (who survived him)
Who survived him, (who survived him)
Who survived him...

(***author's note: This was inspired by a job I left because I was bored with it and hated to come in every day.
The boss said he didn't want to come in everyday, either, but he stuck it out. He thought I should be more like him. I don't know if he was right or not.***)

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Copyright 2013 by Brian R. Baer