Not all of us lead lives of misery
and deep despair
I don't and never intend to...
As for the troubles of the age
Just change the names
the dates and the places
Then plug any other age
into what's branded as 'news'
For the news and the newsies
both get old
Their only care ~
How many copies sold
The due date approaches; the deadline looms
Irritation's in the air; annoyance fumes
A cauldron boils in every newsroom
The tension's palpable; nerves are frayed
Editors hit the ceiling
At mistakes never made
Ill winds are blowing of mounting desperation
Cooler heads giving way to righteous indignation
Utter frustration in the act of creation
Now the boss' out his mind; he's gone off the deep end
Taken it out on someone; flown right off the handle
Only to land himself head first in a scandal...
So remember, all you newsies, stay under control
Not blowing up's your primary goal
Meet your deadline; don't forfeit your soul
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