pull out all the stops
keep your shoulder to the wheel
go the extra mile
bust your chops sweat blood
work your fingers to the bone
bend over backwards
go to great lengths put
your heart and soul into it
and work like a dog
go at it hammer
and tongs roll up your sleeves do
the heavy lifting
put your nose to the
grindstone put in the hours
break your back
When traveling a stretch of life's highway
Does it feel like it's uphill both ways?
Does it feel like winter's twelve months long?
Do you work like a dog for small pay?
Well welcome to a newly formed club
The Association of Chronic Bellyachers
We meet every Thursday at the crack of dawn
We're a bunch of cranky “whine” makers
No grins, guffaws, or laughter allowed
Could be thrown out on your rear
We've a couple of burly guards at the door
Wearing scowls from ear to ear
So if there's really nothing that bugs you
You ain't welcome at one of our meetings
Especially if you're really content with your life
You could even end up with a beating
We take this bellyaching seriously you know
It's developed into a new kind of art
The technique we've developed is really simple
Happiness never invades our heart
Now, if the real truth of the matter be known
With tongue planted firmly in my cheek
I'm really this sweet, kind hearted old codger
Never gripes, never lets out a peep!
In the mornings,
we work like a dog,
In the afternoons
we eat like a hog,
in the evenings
our minds are in a fog
and during the nights
our bodies lie
on the bed like a log
How do we still believe
that we don’t live in a bog?
I would say I work like a dog
But for what it would make my ma
And my reactions may be cat like
But I've never licked my Pa!
I might like to monkey around
But bananas are not my jam
It's true I am wise as an owl
Proved literal by an exam!
I have been called an animal
But she showed a smile at the time
Given a nickel each instance
In truth it would be just a dime!
Think I'll shave my head
think I could be dead
if I try this silly **** again
who knows I said
If I run out in the street
jump up and down
work like a dog
getting what I really need
Life is funny
that being said
got to stop this train
so I think I'll shave my head
When traveling a stretch of life's highway
Does it feel like it's uphill both ways?
Does it feel like winter's twelve months long?
Do you work like a dog for small pay?
Well welcome to a newly formed club
The Association of Chronic Bellyachers
We meet every Thursday at the crack of dawn
We're a bunch of cranky “whine” makers
No grins, guffaws, or laughter's allowed
Could be thrown out on your rear
We've a couple of burly guards at the door
Wearing scowls from ear to ear
So if there's really nothing that bugs you
You ain't welcome at one of our meetings
Especially if you're content with your life
You could even end up with a beating
We take this bellyaching seriously you know
It's developed into a new kind of art
The technique we've developed is really simple
Happiness never invades our heart
Now, if the real truth of the matter be known
With tongue planted firmly in my cheek
I'm really this sweet, kind hearted old codger
Never gripes, never lets out a peep!
© Jack Ellison 2013
Son you told me yesterday that most of your life you thought I treated you as if you
were never good enough for me to call son. Well, son I might have yelled at you
and ignored you, but it wasn't because I did not think you were good enough to
call son. But because I'm afraid I'm not good enough for you to call me dad.
I'm afraid because I your father only have a 6 grade education and you on the
other hand are about to graduate from college. Also, I'm afraid because I who
work like a dog only make enough money to barely pay my bills. While you are
about to get a job that will earn you enough money to pay your bills and mine,
and still have money left-over. I'm afraid because one day you'll became a father
yourself, and I'll pale in comparison. A father is supposed to be his son hero,
but instead you're mine. Not good enough for me to call son, never! But I'm
afraid the one day you'll see that I'm not worthy of you call me dad. That is what
I'm afraid of.
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