Working For Robbo
Dad thought he did a good thing,
getting me a job at Robbo's
but Robbo was a sleaze-bag,
king of all the sleaze-bag yobbos!
Sorting rotten spuds from good ones
is a reeking, stinking chore.
I lasted for an hour or two,
then I spewed on the store-room floor.
Robbo said to clean it up
and that was fair enough
but when he docked my pay for soap and rags,
I thought he was rather tough!
When Mrs. Robbo went down-town
and took her screaming horde,
Robbo's eyes were gleaming,
he didn't intend to be bored.
He sent me to the back 'fridge
to stack the shelves with milk,
then he sneaked in behind me
with words as smooth as silk.
I was young but had a clue or two
to defend myself from jerks.
I opened up the freezer lid
and hit him with the works!
Frozen chickens hit him in the gut
and knocked him to his knees.
Next came the baby carrots,
then a heap of frozen peas.
Ice-cream dripped down Robbo's face
and pooled around my feet.
No more bagging rotten spuds
and revenge was oh-so-sweet!
Image: freshfoodcentral.com
By cherryk
© 2008 cherryk
(All rights reserved)
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