For £40 An Hour

I’ll scour your shower
lick your toes
smile at your friends
glower at your foes
 
I’ll sweep your floor
applaud your power
I’ll gaze in awe
at your ivory tower
 
I’ll sing in your choir
bow and cower
purchase caviar
for you to devour
 
I’ll not complain
I’ll never be dour
I’ll work all night
to build you a bower
 
I’ll supply cooing doves
should you fall in love
and be grateful if some cash
trickles down from above
 
But…
 
I could work for twenty
and, yes, ten is plenty,
though all’s still fine
if it’s nine. I’ll sign
 
on the dotted line
and promise never to resign.
I’m at your service
(and on my knees).
 
So can I have the job?
 
Can
 
I
 
have
 
the
 
job…

Please?