Sixteen years old, I’m down the mine.
Five years later, I join a dole line.
Assessed and retrained, my spirits were high.
I lasted five years at the old ICI.

Signing on to a government deal.
Blood sweat and tears at The old British Steel.
Then redundancy, and a government grant.
Headed West for a spell at a nuclear plant.

The site was closed and for a four figure fee.
A survival course , an oil rig and the cold, cold North Sea. The oil price dropped, my prospects seemed slender.
So I was forced into slavery at a local call centre.

Have you ever been mis-sold PPI”?
A year later the company, had moved to Mumbai. Working as a labourer, keeping a factory clean.
But was paid off again due to Covid-19.

Now 60 years old the future is grim.
Awaiting a call to start, a new beginning.                             My souls in a hole, my heart is pure lard.
Who thought that doing nothing, would be so hard.

Blank walls and TV, cigarettes and tea
A walk for a paper, life’s lottery.
Just when I thought, all hope had gone.
Ive a twelve hour night shift at the new Amazon.