And Ode To All The Plummers

To all who wear their pants too low.
To all who wear their shirts too high.
You may not make a lot of dough,
About your job you don't have to lie.

To all those we hesitate to pay,
To lay under our greasy, grimy sinks.
Uncomfortably you lay, all day,
To fix our pipes, with twists and kinks.

We know how hard it is to clean,
The pipes of lonely housewives.
All day, to make them sparkle and sheen,
Be careful their husbands come home at 5.
For every time we see a toilet, sink or crack,
We salute our plumbers, and that's a fact.