Industrial Relations In the 1960s
The shop floor view of the newly promoted
Oh to be the factory foreman and to wear a posh white coat
Just the thought of all that power brings a lump right to your throat
No more dirty hands or hob nail boots or boiler suits for you
No more rushing through your break time just relax and drink your brew
Carrying your briefcase, there’s no need for you to hide it
We all know that like your head there’s not a lot inside it
With your clipboard and your pencil you can wander round the site
Whilst assuming great authority you put us workers right
You believe we are in awe of you and hold you in esteem
If that is what you really think your living in a dream
We have seen all your back stabbing and we don’t know how you sleep
Everybody knows you as a sycophantic creep
We heard you telling everyone in the works canteen
That you now had access to the managers latrine
It’s true that for promotion you were first past the post
Yet the workers here all see you as a bigger pratt than most
We have read all your new rules and how we face the sack
We are all in the union and we’ll be fighting back
Don’t go thinking as a foreman that your future is secured
Your about to be upended by a young smart-arsed shop steward
Copyright © Roy May | Year Posted 2011
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