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Samson

Samson was a bin man who lived down our row,

He carried bins two at one time,

Til he dropped one on his toe.


Things never were the same again,

Although he was so strong,

Still carrying bins two at one time,

but now he limped along.


He was a giant of a man standing six feet four and more,

So he had to lift bins higher,

To get them off the floor.


Whilst others carried just one each

Often dragging on the ground,

Samson carried his effortlessly

With never a dragging sound.


He never took a day off work come hail or rain or shine,

Even with just one good foot

He always was on time.


Doing twice the work of other men,

He always led the way,

He even smiled each payday

As he received his equal pay.


Until one day he didn’t show the foreman scratched his head,

It really wasn’t Samson

To stay at home in bed.


So the Cart was redirected

Trundled round to Samsons home,

A humble little back to back,

Where he lived all on his own.


The house it was in darkness and they peered into the gloom,

Everyone really thought the worst

As they searched from room to room.


Opening the bedroom door

They saw a lump within the bed,

They offed their caps and hung their heads

As the lump appeared quite dead.


But what they didn’t notice was a note pinned on the wall,

It gave the perfect explanation,

He’d expected them to call.


The note read very simply

“The football pools I’ve won,

I’ve left my dustbin here in bed,

I’m off to get some sun”.


Mal Edward

2 января 2022 г. 15:02 0 Отчет Добавить Подписаться
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