AN OFFICE DETAIL
I got a little detail
To the Supervisor's shack,
And I hadn't lit in Springer,
Till I wished that I was back
On the far end of my district,
Counting stock or building trail,
For to work inside an Office
Is like doing time in jail.
This bending o'er a table,
And a writing all the day,
Is a-making me hump-shouldered,
And my hair is turning gray.
It shore will be my finish
If they don't relieve me soon,
For my bewhiskered, sunburnt features
Is gettin' paler than the moon.
Some may rant and cuss a little,
And feel they've got a snob
Cause they haven't been promoted
To a supervisor's job;
But I'd rather face the devil,
Or a bald-faced grizzly bear,
Than this everlasting torment
In a Super's swivel chair.
I thought that I had troubles
When on my district all alone,
But I've found that serious trouble
Was a thing I'd never known.
When I git back on my district,
You can bet your life I'll stay,
And be thankful to my Maker
I can draw a ranger's pay.
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