A part-time job
In a delicatessens to rob
I was fourteen, fifteen
Somewhere inbetween
I was oft sent
Hell bent
To the walk in fridge
I, like a midge
Began to bite
With all my might
I did not share
The lovely chocolate eclairs
Like greased lightning
My consumption was frightening
The stock was soon amiss
And within a few days, i was rightly dismissed
Remembering a job, i'd nearly forgotten
Of chocolate eclairs, ill-gotten

by Jemia