What a Pain!

What pain, it feels, to have to go
Back to work. Don't it blow?
And then you just sit and watch
The time go by upon the cloch.

The steam whistle blows,
But not like work, you knows,
It's usually a better sound,
Telling you to hit the ground.

Though, each evening, as short as they are
Are like little weekends, the real being far
Away. But things don't have to feel that blue,
'Cause until then, you have me, and I have you.