Friday Afternoon Poem by Rory Hudson

Important men work late
upon a Friday afternoon,
but for me, I dance my life out
to a very different tune.

And at five o’clock on Friday
it’s the ending of my day:
I’ve the weekend to look forward to -
I’ve been known to shout, “Hooray! ”

Yes, I’ve been known to toss my pen down
at the striking of the clock
and head off to groovy dance halls
where I can roll and rock!

On Saturday I’m happy
as a budgie on a perch,
and Sunday’s even better
‘cause I never go to church!

I’m not too fond of Monday
or the remainder of the week,
so I count down to five on Friday
with a style that’s quite unique.

Oh, the world owes me a living
(as I’m sure you’ll all agree):
some may like to work their butts off,
but that’s not the life for me.

If I ever catch the fellow
who first invented work
I’ll tell him what I think of him,
and then, with ghoulish smirk,

I’ll grab him by the trousers
and toss him off a cliff
and dance a tango round his corpse
as it lies there cold and stiff.

I’m as silly as a filly
and as foolish as a frog
that jumps round until it bounces
out of its comfortable bog.

I know I’ll never be important,
it just doesn’t suit me well,
so I’d rather spend my weekend
telling work to go to hell!