Under-Burboned
My plate is filled,
Though my glass has nil;
The work load is hard to bear.
I chip away
But know each day;
There’s more of the same to take care.
Yet, a remedy
Ingrained in me,
Has to wait ‘til the work’s all done.
I gotta get out
Cause there’s no doubt,
I’m over burdened, and under-bourboned.
With each firing
And no hiring,
My work load has doubled in size.
They’ve stretched my hours
To the tenth power;
I work five to nine, not nine to five.
How long will I last?
Going full blast?
Every part of me is hurt ‘in.
Got to get away
From this meager pay;
I’m over burdened, and still under-bourboned.
What kind of life has
More burden
Than bourbon?
It’s time to draw down
The curtain
On work ‘in.
So raise your glass
And swig away.
To wash away
The hurt ‘in;
It’s time to over-bourbon!
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