Posted on March 17th, 2014
Why can’t I be a bureaucrat
So tender, meek and mild?
And follow you all through your days
And bear your paper child?
Why can’t I sit down at that desk
And wile away my time?
Attending meetings, conference call
And earn productive dime.
I’d get it all so nice and neat
I’d get it down on time.
And when the day is nearly through
I’d spend my goodly dime.
On barrel-busting drink and food
On stuffing my old craw,
And look away each time I think
My God, My God, My God.
Why can’t I be a bureaucrat?
Deny myself the pleasure,
Of ever doing as I please
My unproductive leisure.
I’d embarrass you, my sloven mess
I’d make you think I’m wild.
You’d hardly recognize the one who bore
Your loveless paper child.