The English-speaking nation,
Commutes to work via crowded tube station;

Faceless average Miss Twee,
Nameless overwrought secretary;

Grab those files Miss Twee,
Oh, and book lunch for three;

During your break,
To the dry-cleaners’ take
My claret stained suits off the hook;

He summoned a smile,
Like a fat crocodile as he knew it was no short distance;

You can lunch on the way,
A quick sandwich today; was the final imparted insistence?

Hustling briskly through the crowd,
Five minutes in effort to gain;

You’re back on time,
I’m very proud and didn’t need to shout out loud;

Late again,
You are a pain to place me under such a strain;

Its loyalty we need here you know,
Jobs on the line I fear;
I’ll really have to let you go
Your leaving gift my dear;

The overtime, the extra hours;
All written off,
With a bunch of flowers.