Dear Boss, I write this note to you to tell you of my plight;
At the time of writing I am not a pretty sight;
My body is all black and blue, my face a deathly grey,
So I write this note to say why Paddy's not at work today.
While working on the 14th floor, some bricks I had to clear;
To throw them down from off the top seemed like a good idea;
But the foreman wasn't very pleased, he was an awkward sod,
And he said I had to cart them down a ladder in my hod.
Now, to clear away these bricks by hand to me seemed very slow,
So I hoisted up a barrel and secured the rope below;
But in my 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 had untied the rope, the barrel fell like lead;
Hanging tightly to the rope I started up instead;
I sped off like a rocket, and to dismay I found
That halfway up I met the bloody barrel coming down.
Now, the barrel broke my shoulder as to the ground it sped,
When I reached the top I banged the pulley with my head;
I held on tight, though numb with shock from this almighty blow,
And the barrel spilled out half its load, 14 floors below.
Well, when the bricks had fallen from the barrel to the floor,
I then outweighed the barrel, and it started up once more;
I held on tightly to the rope, as I flew towards the ground,
And I landed on the broken bricks that were scattered all around.
As I lay there moaning on the bricks, I thought I'd passed the worst,
But when the barrel reached the top was when the bottom burst;
A shower of bricks came down on me, I didn't have a hope,
And in all of the confusion, I let go the bloody rope.
The barrel again being heavier, it started down once more,
And landed right on top of me as I lay there on the floor;
It broke three ribs and my left arm, and I can only say,
That I hope you understand why Paddy's not at work today.