The Flop

Gerald O'Hagan, L.6

He was fair haired and sun tanned,
And a definite dab hand,
At cleaning street lamps made of chrome,
But he's to sit all day at home;
For the foreman did create,
When the first day he came late:
"Though you've not been late or slow
In training, you're late now - so go! "
The lad worried through day and through night,
His face and fair hair went quite white,
They so lost their former nice sheen,
That he hatched out a wicked scheme,
And one night left his red-bricked home
And burnt down those street lamps of chrome,
Letting out a garish, sad cry:
"You can't clean 'em now! - nor can I."


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