Queen o' the Cube
First things first, and first I take an elevator.
Today, if truth be told, it was a smellevator.
I change my shoes and head right for the coffee room.
I drink too much and scuttle for the ladies room
and there I gloss my lips and fluff my flat hat hairs.
I dish the dirt with Deb and gush over what she wears.
Later, not sooner, I return to my messy cubicle.
My boss looks annoyed. I swear he is such a boobicle.
He wants something typed and then he wants thirty xeroxes.
He breathes down my neck like a herd of thirty queer oxes.
Let ‘im exude, ‘cause whether he seethes or abides it
he’ll get what he wants when the Queen of the Cube provides it.
Lucky for him I’m in a magnanimous mood.
I head for the copy room; that’s when my heel comes unglued.
Lucky for me, a shoemaker store’s in the lobby.
When I get back at twelve, my boss appears purple and sobby.
Lucky for me he’s got a real urgent appointment,
‘cause I’m telling you now, his nose is way out of ajointment.
I’ll get him his copies, all perfect, he’ll thank me a bunch
but first things first: I’ll take a three hour lunch.
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