We got used to thinking
It was Bank Holiday weekend,
The Gregorian Calendar
Had picked the time we'd spend.
Attending to our cauliflowers,
Then drinking until late,
Dictated to by bankers,
Who control the modern state.
But rolling out of bed on Monday,
For another lazy day,
Something on the morning news,
Said our time had gone astray.
It wasn't May Bank Holiday,
The world had gone to work.
Here's me in my pyjamas,
Ooooh I feel a proper burke.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem