Then, I'll chug down my bourbon and have my final cig,
Tomorrow I'll awaken with hardly any sleep,
And, I hope at work I do o.k. so, my job I just might keep,
I think it is incredible each day that I survive,
Until, I drop dead at work and am declared an unalive,
Of course, there are the medicines I take for my aches and pains,
These meds have scrambled up my guts and eaten away my brains,
To live to be a pensioner I think is real naive,
For all the decades I have worked, not one penny I'll receive,
I have no riches to pass on to my son when he gets big,
But, I'm sure it will fit him so, I bequeath to him my wig.
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