Analysis of WORK-A-DAY BLUES

Such a work-a-day living
And your life is a drag,
Work-a-day people dream
Of joy, they've never had.
A work-a-day feeling
Don't time go so slow,
There's a million and one places
You'd much rather go.

But life was meant
To be so very hard,
And so very hard it is.
Oh the joys of living
That you have to miss.
Black and white,
Second-hand,
B-grade life,
This job ties you down
From nine until five.

Monday-morning -itis
Runs through your veins,
The boss keeps hammering
Away at your brain,
driving you insane.
Tuesday evening siesta
Life is a fiesta,
For the boss man, it seems,
Happiness eludes you
It's a fever-dream.

Wednesday through the day
You work your life away,
Nothing in the world
Ever comes your way,
Cause you're a slave.
Thursday is when
You finally get your pay
But as always the taxman
Took the best of it,
And nothing much is left.

When Friday comes around
The week is nearly done,
It seemed to pass so slow
At times it seemed as if
The time would never go.
Saturday you do the chores,
Life is such a bore,
You can't get much fun
like this, that's for sure.

On Sunday get up early
And go off to pray,
And again you dig down deep
To fill the collection plate.
Taxes are so high but
Your life is not,
At times you wonder
What you've even got
Worth living for.

Inflation keeps soaring
Up to the stars,
Right up to Venus,
On up to Mars.
Unemployment fears make
You keep your lousy job,
Though it's no career,
Indifference lingers on
Growing daily more strong.

Jobs are scarce but
Not as scarce as a decent wage,
The budget surely leaves
A helluva lot to say,
For an early election.
Campaigning like mad
And at times you nearly are,
You must procure money
To buy yourself a car.

Malcolm tells us what to say
When to hope and when to pray,
For a double dissolution.
Is Malcolm mad, or merely mean?
He's a walking piece of filth
Something really quite obscene.

THE END
© Copyright 2021, Philip Roberts
Melbourne, Victoria, Australia