The Ravin'

Once upon a workday boring, while I dreamed of beer and whoring,

Corresponding with fat and pimply posters from their basement floor,
While I sat there, nearly napping, suddenly my boss came yapping,
As my hands were gently tapping, tapping with my fingers sore
"'Tis some manager," I muttered, tapping with my fingers sore
"Just some jerk, and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I did cower, for this was a Working Hour,
With each project I fail to finish threatening my stipend more.
Desperately I tried to cover. . .blame the problem on another
'Ore my shoulder he did hover. . .hover and impugn my Chore
Yes, the rare and sacrosanct burden, which I firmly deemed my Chore
Ravin' here for evermore.
Could this Ravin', fraught with meaning, tiny tits, and trannys preening,
Pusillanimous pecker postings, pendant pic or poll implore
Ever have a final ending. . .have a resolution pending
Finally have no one defending points of view that we abhor ?
On the morrow will I notice, brighter hopes we have in store ?
Quoth the ravin', "Nevermore."
IBhttp://boston.craigslist.org/gbs/rnr/3967187488.html