The bloke that I work for

The bloke that I work for ain’t a bad chap.
When I ask for promotion he says “not just yet.”

He gives me a smile when I ask for a rise,
“Sorry young chap – when you’re more wise.”

Then time passes; I love my wife and the kids,
I say to the boss “look I’m in debt - on the skids.”

He says he can’t help – can’t even try,
“Look at my overheads – they’re far too high.”

So I scrimp and I save,
I work and I slave,
I do as I’m told,
I start to grow old.

Hey boss I’ve worked here for years,
Since I was a lad – if I could retire I would be glad.

Sorry he said and nodded his head.
“It’s cost a great deal to train you and hone all your skills,
If I let you go it will compound my ills”.

I smiled – “about my promotion a job that is nice?”
He scowled “you’re too old – and don’t ask me twice!”

But I’m tired and depressed, working to make you rich.
“Get on with your work – don’t moan and bitch.”

The bloke that I work for is a really bad swine,
He thinks lack of dedication is a heinous crime.

Tied by my pension - stuck in a job that I hate,
Every day is a battle – I don’t feel too great.

Too old for promotion and stuck in my ways.
Too young for my pension and counting the days.

I’m stood in a hole, ten foot in the ground.
The sides are grey and smooth and round.

There’s no way out
There’s no way out

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