Fatigues

We had a little hand cart
With which we used to shirk;
It kept us off fatigues
And anything like work.

Already allocated, Staff,
We'd proclaim on Works Parade
Then scarper off quickly
Before any checks were made.

And we'd push our little hand cart
Two or three times a day
Up and down the camp
Saluting Rupert's on the way.

Somebody always carried a clipboard,
To make us look that more official,
For with clipboard and confidence
You can fool the body martial.

At the end of every journey
We'd take a break to smoke,
Discuss the local talent,
Even crack the latest joke.

We used our little hand cart
Until in truth, take my word,
Against all expectations
We all started feeling bored.

And the very next morning
We turned up on parade
And took what we were given
When work allocations were made.

For its no fun cheating the system
If the system is too slow
And it's no fun being clever
If the system's too thick to know.

If there's a lesson to this story
It's that the military mind
Can so often on occasion
Seem deaf and dumb and blind.

Vote for this poem

Fatigues

[ Control Panel ]
Last 100 Poems