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Friday, 19 February 2016


I wake up in a bumble
As I tumble out of bed
Then I mumble as I fumble
With the jumble in my head
I get myself all decked out
In my finest dressing gown
Count the seconds til I check out
And step out and on the town

I long to chuck the toady odes
And feel myself take flight
Cos I’m a poet by day –
Accountant by night.

I work the nine-to-fives
Finding ballads really cumbersome
I really come alive
When I can get all hot and numbersome
Cos every working day
I’m bustin stanzas to the maximum
I’ll axe the work for play
Put on my slacks and do a tax return

I love to hit the office
And party til it’s light
Cos I’m a poet by day –
Accountant by night.

Some people call me ‘sell out’
With my super-sonnet skills
But I really want to yell out
And at dusk I step out brusquely
And assume a new identity
I hang out in my suit
And be an absolute nonentity

I pack away my Byron
And I change my name to Dwight
Cos I’m a poet by day –
Accountant by night.

Now I’m thinking that the drinking
In the morning’s getting dull
And it may be wishful thinking
But it’s clinking in my skull:
Yes I’m pining for the time
When I can ditch the wretched rhyme
I’ve an itch to switch my pitch
And hit the finances full time

Yes the figures give me vigour
As they trigger and ignite
And make blatant all the latent force
That gives my life some bite
But for now I’ll nurse my verses
As I curse the need to write
Cos I’m a poet by day –
Accountant by night.

Yeah I’m a poet by day –
Accountant by night

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