United Colours or the monsoon, they met death all too soon, over a thousand I hear the score, dare not forget a hundred and thirty four more. Joe Fresh with the Mango, Pri their Mark make enough profit to keep a whale size shark. Quiet though they be free, seven dollars, thirty a week is a complete travesty.
The building heard a rumble the weight on top it began to crumble, generators on the highest level, the floors were at a bevel. Workers were panicky and frightened “go back to work or your pay will be tightened”, threatened with the sack, too scared not to go back, each one walked in too soon, their fate sealed their doom, there was death in every room.
Floor by floor the building collapsed, while others worked hard, for fear not to, go back. Most tried to run, the night met the sun, the devils hand at work once more has gained victory with his plan.
Lessons were learnt that fateful day, a domestic building not to be used that way, fire safety, sprinklers and all, generator on top is a forbidden new rule, workers lines have been set up for most of complaints, the workers are treated better, but not as good as saints, pay has improved a few dollars a week, more work, tighter schedule their owners do seek, exonerated, nor blameworthy their fashionable house , one dollar more cost for the conscientious louse. Crumble the concrete or pay the bill, there’s profit to be made if your prepared to kill.