Gig

I’m off to see the wizard

At ungodly early hours.

I don’t know what he looks like,

But he works on for some film studio

On the south side,

And may be willing to trade carpentry

For a ticket to Oz.

I’m hoping the foreman isn’t the wicked witch

Or I don’t have to work with any

Of those flying monkey’s,

And if the security guards are singing

That oreo song twelve hours a day

It will drive me nuts.

It’s supposed to go three weeks or so

But they let me loose on Sundays.

I feel a little old for these kind of adventures

So, prayers and good thoughts

Will be appreciated.

If I survive, celebrations will definitely be in order,

Though rest assured,

I promise not to float away on any balloons.