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Dear Sir, I write this note to you to tell you of me plight |
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and at the time of writing, I am not a pretty sight; |
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me body is all black and blue, me face a deathly gray |
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and I write this note to say why Paddy's not at work today. |
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While working on the fourteenth floor some bricks I had to clear; |
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now, to throw them down from such a height was not a good idea. |
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the foreman wasn't very pleased, he beeing an awkward sod |
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he said I'd have to cart them down the ladders in me hod. |
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Now, clearing all these bricks by hand it was so very slow, |
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so I hoisted up a barrel and secured the rope below. |
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But in me haste to do the job I was to blind to see |
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that a barrelful of building bricks was heavier than me. |
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So when I untied the rope the barrel fell like lead |
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and clinging tightly to the rope I started up instead. |
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Well, I shot up like a rocket till to my dismay I found |
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that halfway up I met the bloody barrel comming down. |
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Well, the barrel broke me shoulder as to the ground it sped, |
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and when I reached the top I banged the pully with my head. |
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Well, I clung on tight through numbed shock from this almighty blow |
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and the barrel spilled out half the bricks fourteen floors below. |
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Now, when these bricks had fallen from the barrel to the floor |
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I then outweighed the barrel and so started down once more; |
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still clinging tightly to the rope, I sped towards the ground, |
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and I landed on the brocken bricks that were all scattered round. |
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Well, I lay there groaning on the ground, I thougth I'd passed the worst, |
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when the barrel hit the pully-wheel and then the bottom burst. |
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Well, a shower of bricks rained down on me, I hadn't got a hope |
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as I lay there moaning on the ground, I let go of the bloody rope. |
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The barrel than being heavier, it started down once more, |
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and landed right across me, as I lay upon the floor. |
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Well, it broke three ribs and my left arm and I can only say |
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that I hope you'll understand why Paddy's not a work today |
