The Fuss

Fifty gallons of coal black tar 
Sat on the open roof truss.
The boss told Tom to put it away,
But Tom thought,"what's the fuss."

Then a north wind blew from across the lake,
And the bucket of tar began to shake.
It seems that Tom had made a big mistake.
It would be the last that Tom would make.

Tom walked under the open roof truss.
He was going home for the day.
But it seems for this mistake he made,
Tom would have to pay.

It hit Tom on the head, so now Tom's dead.
He's laying on the floor.
Perhaps if Tom had made a fuss.
He might have made the door.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2009

Poem

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Dietrich Avatar
December 31, 2009 at 10:10 PM
Good funnin' Thomas!
Brown Avatar
December 29, 2009 at 12:18 PM
I thank you for writing and sharing your poetry with us here at PoetrySoup Thomas. I offer you warm greeting for the New Year with best wishes to you on your writing endeavors in 2010 whatever they may be. Love, Carol
Harman Avatar
December 29, 2009 at 9:46 AM
so the moral is do what you told by your elders.....
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