The alarum rings
And up she springs
Although she’d rather sleep in.
Back to work
She has to go
To tame the debts she’s deep in.
Downy pillows call him back, and horizontal beckons,
But vertical’s what’s needed now to git ‘er done, he reckons.
It’s Monday morning,
Dull and drear,
And grownups get their butts in gear.
Shuffle to the shower, run the water hot as lava.
Then off to join the throng of zombies
Lurch in search of java.
He hops a train, she hails a cab, he stumbles to the bus.
By car, by foot, by Bat mobile; it’s me, it’s you, it’s us.
A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do,
gotta do, gotta do, gotta doobie, doobie do.
Duty calls; we answer
And stick with it, thin or thick.
All hail the Monday grownup,
For we didn’t call in sick.