“It all makes work for the working man..
Folks,
Found this on Google. Something to sing at the TipiFestafter consuming adult beverages?
The Gas Man Cometh – Flanders and Swann
- ‘Twas on a Monday morning the gas man came to call.
- The gas tap wouldn’t turn – I wasn’t getting gas at all.
- He tore out all the skirting boards to try and find the main
- And I had to call a carpenter to put them back again.
- Oh, it all makes work for the working man to do.
- ‘Twas on a Tuesday morning the carpenter came round.
- He hammered and he chiselled and he said:
- “Look what I’ve found: your joists are full of dry rot
- But I’ll put them all to rights”.
- Then he nailed right through a cable and out went all the lights!
- Oh, it all makes work for the working man to do.
- ‘Twas on a Wednesday morning the electrician came.
- He called me Mr. Sanderson, which isn’t quite the name.
- He couldn’t reach the fuse box without standing on the bin
- And his foot went through a window so I called the glazier in.
- Oh, it all makes work for the working man to do.
- ‘Twas on a Thursday morning the glazier came round
- With his blow torch and his putty and his merry glazier’s song.
- He put another pane in – it took no time at all
- But I had to get a painter in to come and paint the wall.
- Oh, it all makes work for the working man to do.
- ‘Twas on a Friday morning the painter made a start.
- With undercoats and overcoats he painted every part:
- Every nook and every cranny – but I found when he was gone
- He’d painted over the gas tap and I couldn’t turn it on!
- Oh, it all makes work for the working man to do.
- On Saturday and Sunday they do no work at all;
- So ’twas on a Monday morning that the gasman came to call…
The ToolBear
“Never met a man who couldn’t teach me something.” Anon.
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arf
"The old Quaker Meeting house is almost 300 years old and as my sawzall made its way into the pegged ancient wood, a smell emerged that told me about dried, cracked things. The ancient Quakers sitting in the well worn pocket of their silence on the darkened pine benches were whispering something to me across the years. Something about why I was here, why we're here. Lord but it was hot. I reached in to clear anything out of what was the sill, nothing but the hardened mud, lime and sand mortar, dust and shadows." -- Jer
That is priceless. I love it!
The difference between stupidity and genius is that genius has its limits. -Albert Einstein
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