The Contractor

Ivan

He rolls into work each day,
Glassy eyed and shaking hand.
Thank God he uses spray ,
With paint brush he'd be banned.

As the morning-tea bell sounds,
Two Mars Bars and a coke.
He couldn't handle a beer right now,
On that he just might choke.

Kim is on a wage again,
Fifty bucks a week - we hear.
All the rest will go to Ive,
And he'll spend it all on beer.

He has a lovely home now,
And the kids are his big thrill.
The only thing that worries him,
Is if Kim goes of the Pill.

He's taken up the darts again,
'Cause counting is his trouble.
He throws real well in all his games,
But still can't hit a double.

Ivan has a little workshop,
On Jim and Ina's farm.
If the tax man catches him,
My God he'll do him harm.

He has a loving family,
And a mortgage that's a must.
He cuts and sprays and rubs & paints,
No way that he'll go bust.

He's given up the smokes, I hear,
A thing that I admire.
He won't give up the grog though,
It's pull is his desire.

He had an XA Falcon,
It went fast in reverse gear.
It could've killed my bro' that night,
Luckily he's still here.

©The Markar - 1993

Back to the Top