I get up before the cock crows,
Every morning’s like a whirl;
I can’t figure where the time goes—
Life for this suburban girl
It’s a race to reach the bus-stop
And a chance to find a seat,
Read the emails on my lap-top,
Hold my handbag with my feet.
Then I reach my destination,
Share the path with surging mob,
Take my place in grim formation
Stiletto march to my job.
I do hours of data entry,
Answer phones, take queries too,
Add on errands supplementary—
There’s an awful lot to do.
My lunch break is nonexistent,
Always eaten on the run—
As the manager’s assistant
Office chores are never done.
He is always at a meeting,
Meaning I must hold the fort—
Little time for things like eating
For the boss’s chief support.
Though I am a ‘nine to fiver’,
I don’t leave ‘till very late;
Commitment, my slave driver,
Keeps me back ‘till after eight.
I’m so glad when day is over;
I relax an hour or two—
Slim chance I might recover
For tomorrow’s rendezvous-- Phew!
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