A.A.A. AArdvark Corp.
The Orderly
It's the graveyard shift at Emergency,
And I didn't sleep enough.
The 1st night of many,
And the 1st night is always rough.
It's the hour they stop coming in,
Except for glassings and a heart attack.
The psychotic has been tranquilised,
So that's one problem off my back.
The ischaemic hearts and chest pains,
Are all wired for sound.
It's cold and I didn't bring a jumper,
So I go to the lost and found.
Try stay awake with freeze dry coffee,
Black, bitter and strong,
And duck out for half a pack of tailors,
Suck them deep and long.
The 2am morning break,
I'm catching shut eye on an x-ray trolley.
I'm the 1st to break, the 2nd breaker wakes me up,
Looking kind of jolly.
I sit there reading magazines,
As the patients sleep the hours.
I flick through some wine article,
The writer trying not to make them sound sour.
The nurses do hourly observations.
The matron tries to find patients beds.
The lights are dim, the tower block is off,
Outside, the cross burns red.
I transfer some soul to x-ray.
I have to sit and wait once there.
The matron at x-ray likes cigars,
And placed magazines to share.
I wouldn't mind a home humidi-case,
As advertised with Cubans to boot.
Somewhere to store them and stop them,
Shrivelling like old fruit.
The hour to the end ticks near.
I can barely stay awake.
I check the staffroom fridge,
And eat somebodies birthday cake.
The graveyard shift at the Emergency,
My preparation, a little reckless.
I'll be alert tomorrow night.
I leave before the breakfast.
Sleep's nemesis, my coffee.
Sleep's nemesis, my smoke.
Eventually sleep will win,
So someone give me a poke.
And I didn't sleep enough.
The 1st night of many,
And the 1st night is always rough.
It's the hour they stop coming in,
Except for glassings and a heart attack.
The psychotic has been tranquilised,
So that's one problem off my back.
The ischaemic hearts and chest pains,
Are all wired for sound.
It's cold and I didn't bring a jumper,
So I go to the lost and found.
Try stay awake with freeze dry coffee,
Black, bitter and strong,
And duck out for half a pack of tailors,
Suck them deep and long.
The 2am morning break,
I'm catching shut eye on an x-ray trolley.
I'm the 1st to break, the 2nd breaker wakes me up,
Looking kind of jolly.
I sit there reading magazines,
As the patients sleep the hours.
I flick through some wine article,
The writer trying not to make them sound sour.
The nurses do hourly observations.
The matron tries to find patients beds.
The lights are dim, the tower block is off,
Outside, the cross burns red.
I transfer some soul to x-ray.
I have to sit and wait once there.
The matron at x-ray likes cigars,
And placed magazines to share.
I wouldn't mind a home humidi-case,
As advertised with Cubans to boot.
Somewhere to store them and stop them,
Shrivelling like old fruit.
The hour to the end ticks near.
I can barely stay awake.
I check the staffroom fridge,
And eat somebodies birthday cake.
The graveyard shift at the Emergency,
My preparation, a little reckless.
I'll be alert tomorrow night.
I leave before the breakfast.
Sleep's nemesis, my coffee.
Sleep's nemesis, my smoke.
Eventually sleep will win,
So someone give me a poke.
