The Queen of Plant Seven
Three o’clock whistle
Factories let out
Scores on their way
For a bottle of stout
No matter the weather
Ignore the black clouds
Celebrate man of the year
Should be feeling quite proud
Except the man is a woman
She shouts it out loud
No golden jockstrap for her
She’ll have a platinum tiara
And a cake made with lard
Don’t mess with her, man
She’s worked far too hard
So be careful of saying
The wrong thing today
She’s queen of plant seven
She’s well earned her pay.
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