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Grunt grunt below the gutter 
The man of the sewer works
With his big old rusty spanner 
He twists the pipes, the nuts and bolts
That struggle to hold the metal that jolts
The rats and roaches scamper 
When they hear the sewerman's steps
Plod plod plod goes the smelly sewerman
Onto the next battered and crusty pipe
 
Glog glog the stinky water churns 
Flowing out in wispy waves 
Greenish hue surrounds the river of filth 
Looks like a witches wildest dream
Mr sewerman scrunches his bulbous nose
Shaking his head and clicking his tongue  
As a fat rat chases past his bulky boots

Oh Mr sewerman sir
Look how much you toil and swear
See and smell all what you wear
Do you like this job Mr sewerman sir
Are you merry and well with the fat rats
Jolly and gay with huge skidding roaches  
I say your plight is choice
Look at that large frame
You could have been a pawn in the country's game
And left the smelly sewers that you call home 
Honour and grace could have earned you a place 
As a general or even a captain of the horde
Instead you cower behind the sewer's cover
And douse yourself in the smelly waters 

Look at me Mr sewerman sir
When I strut with my uniform in town 
People wave and salute me in honour 
Do you envy my shiny medal 
And the respect from the townsfolk?

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