The Song Of The Extra Clerk

We are a fine body of men, All truly good knights of the pen, For our knowledge and work Every permanent clerk, Gets all of the credit “ye ken.”

You never hear about we, And the reason is clear as can be, If they take notice of us, There would be a fuss, For we’d have to get paid, don’t you see?

As it is, the Permanent Staff, In its sleeve has reason to laugh, For the poor Extra Clerk, Does most of the work, While considered merely riff-raff.

We never get drunk on our pay As “permanents” do, so they say, If we did we’d be sick, For they’d throw us out quick, And we’d lose our “so much” a day.

It pains us to hear the remarks Made by the Permanent Clerks, About their low pay, And the Parliament’s way Of acting by Fitz and by sTarts.

When you come to boil down the facts, Notwithstanding things in the Acts, Permanent Staff is too small Or is no good at all, Else why Extra Jimmies and Jacks.