The Plumber I am but a simple bloke, That knows of water drains and shit, Drive me ute and has me dog, A gentle laugh, an’ wit. I crawl under peoples houses In roof space and in ditch. Fixin broken water pipes An’ sewers, tho the smells a bitch. But I does me job, Tho I gripe and moan about But I does me job An’ some times curse an’ shout. The apprentice lad I got Pimpled, tall and dumb, Sposed to be a help they say, Can’t get off his bum. Was I ever that thick? When first I started out. I could’nt be ,never me, Tho me boss at me did shout. Beaurocrats, insurers and politicians too All want to regulate and stipulate, Everythin I do. They tell me how and when and even some times why But when a blokes deep in it, not a hand they offer I. I like a Friday night Down the pub for a pot or three. Yakking round the bar with mates, The apprentice dog and me. Works hard, life tough, Builders never wanna pay But I sorta like me lot, Wouldn’t have it any other way. The missus kids an’ me are fine We’re a happy bunch of four, I am a country plumber, I look out for you and your. John B. « Go back to Poetry index