LONG SHIFT

LONG SHIFT

He made up a four-scoop pot.

Of coffee that hit the spot…

He drank til

He’d emptied the till,

And made it as far as he got.

His fearful fumble-fingers

Made some awful dingers…

That he could retype

Before they turned ripe,

So  that no typo lingers.

He starts making mistakes

When his concentration breaks…

To be somewhat crude,

The guy needs some food:

He’d like some fried fish cakes!

Two days of this is enough,

At home he’s getting so gruff…

He needs the rest

To feel his best,

The man just isn’t that tough.

Tonight his long shift will end,

Tuesday it happens again…

At a different site

Till late in the night,

Think of the paycheck they’ll send!

–Jonathan Caswell

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