Casual Bearers
“Wanted – Casual Bearers,
No experience necessary, training will be given” -
So read the sign outside the under-takers,
Which had my heart sinking,
But it got me to thinking,
When I studied the note on that door
Did they really know what they were asking for?
I assumed there was an occasional call
For someone to carry the pall,
That sometimes they needed a hand
To join their mourning band,
That it might be on demand
And they’d pay cash in hand.
But their lazily-worded expression
Had formed up a quite different impression,
For I saw “casuals” as those who wouldn’t care,
Turning up un-shaven, without washing their hair,
Appearing in trainers and leisure-wear,
Which would hardly be fair,
Upon the recently bereaved,
Who’d feel justifiably peeved,
Let down, and badly deceived.
As if the service were not of the best,
At the Crem or the Chapel of Rest,
The casuals’ attire would be quite dire,
As they waited for the fire,
Of the funeral pyre,
And would not be of black silk,
Not sombre, or owt of that ilk,
But chattering and nattering,
Cracking a gag, or having a fag,
With no respect for the one that had died,
As they gawped at the graveside.
So - that note I think they should be re-writing,
Or else they’ll find themselves fighting,
For contracts of zero hours,
Set amongst the funeral flowers.
No comments:
Post a Comment