Mr. Perkings is quite glad,
This could be the job he had
Were he rich and educated
At top schools that man created.
He puts on a long blue tie,
Shines his shoes with deep dark dye,
Perkings likes his long grey beard
Bank Deadend likes them quite sheared.
‘Good afternoon, you must be Mr. Perk!’
‘Perkings ma’am’, he gave a smirk,
Mr. Banks will see you soon,
Have a seat in the saloon.
As he sat on a small chair,
A dozen others turned to stare,
They were dressed the same as him
With a tie and chin quite trim.
One was counting notes with speed,
Another stacking coins with greed,
Perkings had nothing to count
That could add to some amount.
‘Perkings!’, ‘Yes sir! I am here,
Of assistance with great cheer!’
He then stepped through a grey door
Of an office with grey floor.
‘I can see from your CV,
You can count to level three.’
‘I worked hard, sir, to become,
Through this job a level one!’
Mr. Banks gave him one glance,
From his dyed shoes to his hands.
‘We want at least a level two,
Don’t call us, sir, we’ll call you.’
(From Formal and Polite)