Workin’ For A Livin’

Workin’ workin’, working through the day
Workin’ workin’ hoping to get that pay
Scrubbin’ until my fingernails are in pain
Dreading tomorrow, to start all over again

Workin’ workin’ mindlessly scrubbing all day
Workin’ workin’ it is just another day
Puttin’ in hours ’til the boss says okay
Go home now, we’ll see you next day

Working until I think that I’ll drop
But I can’t, there’s no pay if I stop
So I continue to rub and to scrub
Polish the dishes, the tables and the tub

One of these days I will be able to relax
No more of the back and shoulder attacks
I’ll sit in my chair and give the commands
Having someone else listening to my demands

But until I do it’s a sure thing for me
Where it is tomorrow, that you will see
Workin’ workin’, scrubbing in pain
Workin’ workin’ and here I’ll remain

Barbara Blackcinder

About Barbara Blackcinder

I am a poet/writer with a hunger for words. There are so many out there that I haven't used yet. They define all reality and especially mine when you read those from me.
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