The Benefit of Unions
by Iain Muir
I see satyrs carrying placards
”Less work and higher pay!”
Water nymphs demanding
A seven-hour seducing day.
There's a cloven-hoofed shop steward
Rabble-rousing in the night,
Calling gods “old-fashioned management,”
- Swears they're spoiling for a fight!
The picket lines are pixies,
The elves are out in force,
And just don't bleeding ask me
Where they found that wingéd horse.
The succubae and incubi
Want better hellspawn-care,
And yonder centaur stallion,
He just wants a bloody mare!
The vamps are out campaigning
For a dental plan pay hike,
But my muse won't join the union,
And she simply will not strike!
© 2004 Iain Muir
Iain Muir lives (most of the time) in a town on the
shores of Botany Bay. He tries to write science fiction, fantasy, and
poetry in between catching flights to consult with clients.
Find more by Iain Muir in the Author Index.
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