Work is Work

Business trips leads you to be
In places quite businessy.
And on those trips, you often find
That there's often something left to buy.

And then you're home, and working hard,
And in the daily grind, cries "lardy lardy."
The cycle, you find, will never end,
'Cause more work comes by, real or pretend.

At least you have a sign of toil
Called an outbox, but not filled with soil
To grow a tree of your accomplishments,
Or shoo away those not heaven-sents.

But work is work, and that is that.
You can escape it, but facts is facts,
That the best way there is to get it done
Is to realize that at times work can be fun.