Dizzy with sleep, he wakes at two.
Breakfast and some irn bru
To chase the sandman from his eyes.
Then on the couch, a little lie
To gather strength to start the day
That’s almost done and gone away.
A shake or two, he’s feeling better,
Opens mail, for him, a letter.
A job, you say, to start at nine?
Oh God, you moan, well, that’s not fine,
Awaking with the birds at dawn,
Not something you can depend upon.
A night-shift would be better, true.
Teenage biorhythms grew
To such extent that day is night
And night is when your mind takes flight.
So, what’s the choice? There isn’t one.
Welcome to my world, my son.
Up in the morning, work all day,
Then off to bed, take time to pray.
Set alarm and don’t be late,
Bosses don’t appreciate
Sleepy headed, idle teens
Who float through day in slumber’s dreams.
A little while and you’ll adjust.
It’s called growing up and so you must
Arise and work and earn your way.
Just think, some effort, then they pay
A pound, a few, it’s not a lot
But that’s the way life chose the plot,
Work and sleep and play some too,
Work some more, to plan and do.
Such a message to take in.
Don’t put that letter in the bin!
You start it, when? Oh, late next week.
Well, off to bed, a shock needs sleep.
When later you are full awake,
Your mind’s had time to assimilate
The hardest fact that life will give;
You have to work to earn to live.
scottishmomus 