Paddy's Sick Note....

A little bit of Irish humour …

Dear Sir,

Author: Pat Cooksey

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 grey

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 it was not a good idea

The foreman wasn't very pleased, he bein' 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 too blind to see

That a barrel full 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 'til 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 pulley with me head

While I clung on tight all numb with 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 scattered all round.

Well, I laid there groaning on the ground I thought I'd passed the worst

When the barrel hit the pulley wheel and then the bottom burst

Well, a shower of bricks rained down on me, I hadn't got a hope

As I lay moaning on the ground, I let go the bloody rope.

The barrel then being heavier it started down once more

And landed right across me as I lay upon the floor

Well it broke three ribs and my left arm and I can only say

That I hope you'll understand why Paddy's not at work today..

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