An agency work arrived to do a shift.
A work college asked, have you some Id
Then announced loudly I’m not a bus driver
What are you giving me your bus pass-for?
I had to laugh at his blunt force trauma
His humour split my sides laughing
In stitches at this poor sod at the door who’d
Just been in a road crash minutes before.
Surviving Deaths knock on the driver’s door
He must have been shuck up inside
Outwardly broken explaining the scene
Head propelled towards the windscreen.
I told him cheer-up look you’re still alive
You’re in good health, so you’ll cough-up
A little wealth, but that is only, money
With extra shifts, those problems will drift away.
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