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Work is a curse, it’s a terrible thing,
It begins when you hear the alarm clock ring;
Though you want nothing more than to stay in your bed,
There’s a voice saying, ‘Get Up!’ shouting inside your head.

When you’ve been up all night and gone to bed late,
It makes perfect sense now why bears hibernate;
Who with brains in their head, please tell me I pray,
Wants to rise in the dark on a cold winter’s day?

And all to make money so your wife can see
Her favourite soap on a plasma TV.
Yes, work is a curse, it’s a terrible thing,
Like a firing squad and a gold wedding ring.

16. Work
(Heikkilä-McGowan) Davy sent me this poem some time ago. This should have been a happy country song but then it twisted to some kind of sad bluesy track. Maybe better this way? --Jore This certainly is an old one - but I still agree with the poem today. It works well as a sad, bluesy track. --Davy