poem

I’m an Accountant

Hey look at the dork
In the suit and the tie,
With the black rimmed glasses.
Who is that guy?

He’s got pens in his shirt pocket;
Hair cut short and so neat;
Always clean shaven;
Black shoes on his feet.

I’m an accountant.
Watch out for me.
I’m an accountant.
Don’t you wish you could be ...
An accountant
With my six-column pad.
An accountant
With my shirt colored plaid.

He stays late every evening,
But so loves to work.
Ask him to party,
He thinks you’re a jerk.

He says, “How can you go out,
With a job still undone?
Who needs a social life?
Accounting’s such fun.”

I’m an accountant.
Watch out for me.
I’m an accountant.
Don’t you wish you could be ...
An accountant
With my six-column pad.
An accountant
With my shirt colored plaid.

The last time he dated
The girl fell asleep.
Fun’s watching McNeill-Lehrer;
He thinks it’s so deep.

Doesn’t own cable television.
He thinks it’s a bore.
And he won’t listen to rock.
He likes classical more.

I’m an accountant.
Watch out for me.
I’m an accountant.
Don’t you wish you could be ...
An accountant
With my six-column pad.
An accountant
With my shirt colored plaid.

So look at him walking;
Clumsy and slow.
He’s a drip top to bottom;
From head down to toe.

I’m an accountant.
Watch out for me
I’m an accountant.
Don’t you wish you could be ...
An accountant
With my six-column pad.
An accountant
With my shirt colored plaid.