A few of of the surviving “I hate work” efforts.
A manager nicknamed Hilter Boss
Whose death to use would not be a loss
We planned and we plotted
While we were all slotted
Over a cliff, we'd give her a toss.
Soul draining away
Keys tapping, a metronome
The rhythm of life.
There was an old woman Hatchett
No evil could ever match it
Her name was a curse
No oath could be worse
Her face, we just wanted to smack it