Monday, 18 August 2014

August 18: Too much yacking, not enough cracking ...

As I sit here, in my working gear, waiting to get crunched
My patience is wearing, I’m beyond caring, my time is getting bunched
She’s three behind, should I be unkind, why does she run so late
Too much yacking, not enough cracking, too many on her plate

I don’t know why, she tries to pry, six patients into one hour
Is it just for money, this is not funny, my mood is turning sour
I should just say, you’ll get your pay, when I’ve charged my daily fee
I bet that sign would get her back on time, and get her seeing me

I’ll take a tractor to my chiropractor, and bulldoze my way in
My appointment time is now behind, and I cannot force a grin
When she comes out, and looks about, and sees that there’s just me
And will just state, “sorry I’m late”, as if its fun to see

I’ll leave a bill, set on her till, for the hour that I waited
What will she say when I want my pay, she won’t be elated
I do not care, this is not fair, what about my time
If I was late, I know my fate, it would be called a crime

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