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So, so slowly, it was ever so slowly,
The creaking door jerked open
On awaiting victims, serene and lowly,
It was employment for they were hoping.

Their horror was great, their chances slim,
The boss looked them straight in the eye.
And with their fading hopes so dim,
Some so weak, they hoped to die.

The lucky got in, the misfortunes out,
Back to the jobless queue.
But for the fortunate some, without a doubt,
It was off for the job to do.

And so the group went, their working lives set,
To rigorous tasks yet to try.
They became part of the great interdependable net
Of the job which would become their lives.

Now let us look-see at one, two or three
Of both the employed and not.
It seems that a worker you need to be
Or else you’ll be forgot.

The forgot will, or will not, find another job,
In which they can spend their lives.
Their work can become their heartbeat-like throb,
Or their bad luck becomes their demise.

The worker gets paid in money and friends,
And soon he can get his new, big car,
Yet to be tied into a knot with no ends
Is quite, quite a big hassle, by far.

A knot with no ends? but what does it mean?
To be tied up in work, friends and plain life?
The worker is happy, or so we have seen,
And he seems but in no strife.

But worry he does, for family, for sure,
Is there enough to pay the bills?
Money is still a problem, rent, rates and more
In the job his life quickly fills.

Now, good listeners, the coin has two sides,
And the workers are at home on one.
Now how say we turn over and realise
That the unemployed do not suffer this fun.

And so for a job the unemployed try,
And dole money collected as they shuffle through,
And so slow, it seems they all get by,
And life is just something to do.

‘Why bother’, they cry, ‘Why try at all?
There’s no hope for us here.’
And so the weak will stumble and fall
Into a miserable life of fear.

But so the jobless, they are the free
To do what they wish, when and how.
As long as it costs less than the dole can decree
They enjoy the here and the now.

And so, gentle reader, dear listener and all,
You must hear what there is to say.
And hear it with ears and eyes and all
For it may change even as we do this day.

Is it so bad to out of the Job-
To live lifes’ life as it comes?
Where worries are nil, except for a bob
To shelter and fill hungry tums?

Or is the best to work life to a stump
And die like a dry, shrivelled-up Date?
And to save the earnings into a useless lump
Of cash to be spent far, far too late.

The job force has changed, the unlucky too,
They’re now all in the same boat.
Those with jobs rushed, the rest nought to do,
But sit down- through life they can float.

I take, dear follower, dear reader and you,
The easy way out in this life.
I sit unemployed, with enough money for food
And, well, just too much for my wife.