The Ballad of a Bad Boss

He walks in all proud.

As if a giant S were tattooed on his chest.

Get me a coffee.

No please or thank you.

He huffs and puffs,

a man in charge.

He’s really full of bluff.

They called him sir,

he would have it no other way.

Don’t dare call him Tom,

that was his name anyway.

The boss he was.

Tall, broad and handsome.

Not a lick of common sense,

or intellect some.

A hero to some,

a fool to most.

We gritted our teeth,

a smile and nod.

The boss he was,

a fool to be had.

there was nothing worse,

he was that bad.


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