What I work for I get, but also
A trifle more. Enough though
To refuel a desire
That in normal course, I
May have let go

Ask my stock market broker
who feels now, like a joker
in his own mesh. A fling with his shilling
Has evolved into a pound
Of his own flesh.

Progress, funny thing is so
That for every mile you row
They give you one quarter
and some More. When you could
well have stayed ashore.


Posted on February 6, 2004, in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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