Sick Note

Dear Sir, I write this note to you to tell you of me plight
And at the time of writing, I am not a pretty sight
Me body is all black and blue, me face a deathly gray
And I write this note to say why Paddy's not at work today

While working on the fourteenth floor some bricks I had to clear
Now, to throw them down from such a height was not a good idea
The foreman wasn't very pleased, he beeing an awkward sod
He said I'd have to cart them down the ladders in me hod

Now, clearing all these bricks by hand it was so very slow
So I hoisted up a barrel and secured the rope below
But in me haste to do the job I was to blind to see
That a barrelful of building bricks was heavier than me

So when I untied the rope the barrel fell like lead
And clinging tightly to the rope I started up instead
Well, I shot up like a rocket till to my dismay I found
That halfway up I met the bloody barrel coming down

Well, the barrel broke me shoulder as to the ground it sped
And when I reached the top I banged the pully with my head
Well, I clung on tight through numbed shock from this almighty blow
And the barrel spilled out half the bricks fourteen floors below

Now, when these bricks had fallen from the barrel to the floor
I then outweighed the barrel and so started down once more
Still clinging tightly to the rope, I sped towards the ground
And I landed on the broken bricks that were all scattered round

Well, I lay there groaning on the ground, I thought I'd passed the worst
When the barrel hit the pully-wheel and then the bottom burst
Well, a shower of bricks rained down on me, I hadn't got a hope
As I lay there moaning on the ground, I let go of the bloody rope