Pot Of Gold Poem by BRUCE MARTONE

I WORK A BILLIONS HOURS
THE ONLY PROBLEM
THERE ONLY A MILLIONS HOURS
SO IT SEEM TO ME
BUT WHAT IT SEEM
IS WHAT IT WILL BE
NOW WHEN I HAVE DOWN TIME
I START TO DREAM AWAY
THAT I WALK A THOUSAND MILES
ON THIS ROAD
AND I'LL WALK THOUSAND MORE
TO FIND MY POT OF GOLD
NOW I WAKE UP GO BACK TO WORK
WORKING IN THE COLD
WORKING IN THE SNOW
WORKING IN THE RAIN
I FIX ROADS DON'T YOU KNOW
NOW MY SHIFT COME TO AN END
I START HEADING HOME AGAIN
FALLING A SLEEP ON THE CHAIR
STARTING TO DREAM
I DREAM I WALK A THOUSAND MILES
ON THAT SAME ROAD
AND I DREAM I WALK A THOUSAND MORE
STILL SEARCHING FOR MY POT OF GOLD
NOW I WAKE UP AND LOOK AROUND
AND QUICKLY I GO BACK TO SLEEP
CAUSE AT LEAST DREAMING GIVE ME HOPE
WHEN I CONTINUE TO WALK THAT ROAD
AND WHEN I HAVE HOPE
I MIGHT FIND MY POT OF GOLD