Holes in the Road
Tarmacs mostly grey or black,
a simple thing to lay.
So how come grey goes onto
black and black goes onto grey?
You've see the sight, a brand new road,
pristine and just as built.
So how come not long afterwards,
it's like a patchwork quilt?
I'll tell you why! It's British Gas,
BT and all the rest.
It's Pat and Mick and all their mates,
determined to be pests.
Particularly 'twixt eight and nine,
then four 'til half past five,
which seems to be the only time
that roadworks come alive.
Out come the cones! The traffic lights!
The trucks and diggers too,
then Pat and Mick and all their mates
start wondering what to do.
Poor mums and kids just sit and fume,
reps try to jump the queue,
whilst Pat and Mick; well,
simply put, they go and start a brew.
But it's the leaning on the shovels,
the lounge against the tree,
and the lanquid way they stroll
about that really gets to me.
Still Pat and Mick care not a jot
as they wander down the line,
to them it's just the way it is,
it's simply overtime!
Well there you have, there it is,
it's no great master plan.
It's just the way it always is
when work involves a man.
I'm sure if women were in charge
then things would be just fine,
but 'til that day, please take a tip;
start work at half past nine!
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