The Sick Note Pat Cooksey Dear Boss, I write this note for to tell you of my plight And at the time of writing, I am not a pretty sight My body is all black and blue, my face a deathly gray So, I write this note to say why Paddy's not at work today While working on the the fourteenth floor, some bricks I had to clear To toss them down from off the top seemed quite a good idea The foreman, he did not agree, he was an awful sod He said I'd have to cart them down the ladder in my hod Well, clearing all those bricks by hand, it seemed so dreadfully slow So, I hoisted up a barrel and secured the rope below But in my haste to do the job, I was too dim to see That a barrel full of building bricks is heavier than me When I untied the rope, of course, the barrel fell like lead And, clinging tightly to the rope, I started up instead I shot up like a rocket, and to my dismay I found That halfway up I met the bloody barrel coming down Well, the barrel broke my shoulder as toward the ground it sped And when I reached the top I banged the pulley with my head I hung on tight till numb with shock from that almighty blow Then, the barrel spilt out half its bricks, some fourteen floors below Now, when the bricks had fallen from the barrel to the floor I then outweighed the barrel, so I started down once more Still clinging tightly to the rope, I raced toward the ground And landed on those broken bricks scattered all around While I lay there moaning, I thought I'd passed the worst But when the barrel hit the top, the bottom of it burst A shower of bricks rained down on me, I didn't have a hope And in the great confusion, I let go of the rope Well, the barrel now, being heavier, it started down once more It 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 I hope you understand why Paddy's not at work today Note: http://www.patcooksey.com

© 2005 Jonathan Ramsey Irish Music Productions