No more working at that bakers!

I have no hesitation

In saying just how glad I am,

No more exploitation.

No more working for peanuts

For a boss expecting the earth,

No more working for an outfit

That should have been drowned at birth.

 

Only two more weeks to go

And I can leave this firm,

No more cooking bacon

That always makes me squirm.

I always knew this wasn’t a job

For a veggie to do.

No more cake temptation,

That’s why my figure grew!

 

No more buying uniforms

From our measly pay.

No more being restricted

In what I wear each day.

No more getting up early,

No alarms at twenty past five,

No more struggling to get to work,

Feeling just half alive.

 

No more arriving to set out food,

Serving customers at once,

Who want cakes in bottom trays

While I feel such a dunce.

No more thought of arriving sooner

Knowing I won’t get paid.

While knowing I can’t open later

And miss their seven o’ clock trade!

 

No more phone calls while at home,

“Can you come and help out?”

Feeling guilty saying no,

What’s that all about?

No more working for a manageress

Who’s twice as thick as me,

Just because she’s the cousin

Of those awful powers that be.

 

No more having my annual leave

Stolen from under my feet.

All the bank holidays deducted

By a scandalous cheat.

No more working at the bakery,

Being dragged through the mire.

No more working for anyone,

For I’m about to retire!