Twas the night before Monday and all through the house,
not a creature was stirring, not even the spouse.....
We'd eaten our dinner, and stuffed full to bursting, had settled
ourselves in front of the TV, conversing.
We got through a show on channel one and on two,
then without much warning, or further ado,
the feeling crept in, that sneaky, creepy one,
it bubbles up in the evening, after Sunday fun.
When your eyes start drooping and your head gently nods,
the work day reminders appear, cheeky sods.
"Work in the morning, be up bright and early,
commute to the office, greet your manager Shirley.
She'll grunt if you're lucky, she's not very nice,
but she pays your salary, at Christmass's thrice!"
Though you try to silence them, they always win,
those creepy, sneaky reminders of the job you're in.
But retire you will, soon enough you think,
so you'll drag yourself to bed and into it you'll sink.
Where the fluffly feeling of dreamy sleep will pull you into it's
pillowy keep. You'll see flashes and flickers of silly
delight, as diamond crested eagles swoop into sight.
And when you wake, which you surly must,
with a groggy brain and that sleepy eye dust,
though the day may seem long and the morning early,
it won't be so bad even with the manager named Shirley.
