Work Poems: Playing Musical Chairs In Tax Office Poem by Margaret Alice

Margaret Alice did not master e-filing,
her electronic tax form was all wrong,
the tax office sent her a note come fix
your e-filing form; this morning I went

Took my place on a chair, as the first guy
vacated his chair we all hopped up like
Jack-in-the-box to move to the next
one – I nearly stuck out my tongue

Then my turn at the big desk, got to see
Mr Phaswana, first name Elvis, told him
of the Pratchett I was clutching while
still chuckling,

Elvis retyped my e-filing form to make it
conform to the norm; more people arriving
hopping up and down, making the game
even better to watch

All the while Elvis typed away while
explaining he’d love to learn French
some day – and voilà, before long
the form was done and the tax ghost

Was laid for 2007 – next year the struggle
will begin again, combating e-filing, but
until then – freedom, comrades, freedom
for me; thank you Elvis – most heartily!