As some of you may or may not remember, there is something about working for Royal Mail that brings out the poet in me as I'm sat in the car waiting for half nine to roll around.
I've been playing around with this for a couple of weeks, reflecting on my first fifteen months with the company and finished it this morning. Anyway, thought I'd share it. If it makes anyone smile or think, yeah, I empathise with that then that's great. If you detest it and think it's s**t, then that's cool too. It's poetry. All poetry is s**t.
And hey, I'm a postie, not a poet...
They Haven’t Bought My Soul
Hey, hey, look at me,
Got a job delivering the post,
Big firm, fresh air, proud history,
Proud as punch, but I’m not one to boast.
But hey, hey, look at me,
I’m going to be a happy, go lucky OPG.
Induction man says it’s all second to none, see,
But a few weeks in and I’m having some doubts,
Two day’s training, hi-viz and it’s ‘hey, you’re a postie!’
Here’s your partner, he knows what it’s all about.
Full timer, seen it all, he’s a crafty old sot,
‘Come in early for free,’ he says, ‘everyone does.’
‘We’ll rush ‘round, no break, bash it out,’ I wonder if he’s losing the plot.
I ask ‘why work for free?’ He shrugs and says ‘because.’
Overtime daily, never finish at my time for three,
Too much work, too little time, every single day the same,
Learnt to claim for it though, so many working for free,
Seems it’s the Royal Mail way, it’s a pretty one sided game.
Now I got another partner, a smiler; he’s a man of the Union,
He shows me the light, a path to a better way,
Start time, finish time, don’tcha work for free, son.
Take your breaks, stand and fight, never ever sway.
Seems like the DOM don’t like me now,
‘You can’t complete? Flash and Dash can and they lapse.’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ I sigh, ‘and I know how.’
‘They come in early, run and take no breaks, the job wrecking saps.’
I’m in the office now, feeling the heat,
Performance questions, facts and bollix, world on my f***ing shoulders,
‘But I’m doing the job properly, yet you got me beat.’
‘Don’t you get it, son, properly ain’t no good for the shareholders.’
I feel so sad and lonely, dark and depressed,
Managers glare and Flash and Dash whisper and stare,
Can’t wait to get out, fresh air and on my own, it’s just the best.
Out on the streets, the people they still smile and care.
Hey, hey, look at me, I’m still a happy, go lucky OPG.
I’m whistling and smiling, still proud to be a postie,
I chat to the old people, sometimes I make their day,
I belong; a timeless seam, a fabric of the community,
A blue shirt, doing his best as he shoulders his burden and proudly makes his way.
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They Ain't Bought My Soul
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crimson king
- Posts: 783
- Joined: 20 Aug 2017, 16:37
- Gender: Male
They Ain't Bought My Soul
Sooner or later, a beat dog bites.
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LaggyBand
- Posts: 1065
- Joined: 29 Jun 2015, 14:07
- Gender: Male
They Ain't Bought My Soul
That’s great, thanks for sharing!
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Jpro747
- Posts: 1342
- Joined: 23 Dec 2012, 10:22
- Gender: Male
They Ain't Bought My Soul
I think you summed up the good and bad sides of the job very well. Keep it up 
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crimson king
- Posts: 783
- Joined: 20 Aug 2017, 16:37
- Gender: Male
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scoobydo79
- Posts: 2056
- Joined: 15 May 2011, 19:04
- Gender: Male
They Ain't Bought My Soul
Your good 