Ode To A Cubicle

To the tune of "O, Tannenbaum."

Oh cubicle, my cubicle, how lovely are your window panes.
The mottled carpet on the floor hides all my drink and coffee stains.
Your walls of grey hold tacks and pins,
Acoustically, they dim the din.
My cozy corporate cattle car, my home away from home you are.

I hide here from my manager and live like a huate connoisseur,
With cookies, cakes and diet Cokes;
I draw cartoons and make up jokes.
I'm sitting ergonomically
And thriving gastronomically.
At four o'clock I'll rise and go, but I'll come back again, you know.

Yes I'll come back, my cubicle; within your fond embrace I'll be,
My little place of office space, my corporate domesticity.
I'll drape your walls with photographs
And poems like this to give me laughs.
If I get moved to another floor
That means I'll have one cubicle more.
And when I die I'll ask that I be buried 'neath my cubicii.

~by me