Come and listen to my story, folks, I’ll tell it plain and true,

About a man and his time-off banks, and the job he once knew.

Well he worked down at the warehouse, a place both near and far,

He’d scan and stack from dusk till dawn, beneath that warehouse star.

But the mornings grew much heavier, the snooze alarm would sing,

Till one day he slept clear past the bell, and lost near everything.

First he burned through vacation time, then sick leave went away,

Then every scrap of UPT was gone by break of day.

The boss man shook his weary head, “Son, the numbers don’t agree,

You’re out of hours, out of luck, and out of PTO and UPT.”

Turn in your badge, my buddy,

Give up your pride, I say,

He ran through his banks of PTO and UPT,

And they fired him today!

Now some men dream of riches, some of fame on the TV,

But he dreamed only of one more hour with slumber’s company.

But dreams can’t punch a time clock, and they don’t ship a load,

So he’s standing there unemployed again, with nowhere left to go.

So heed this tale, you sleepers all, who love your feather bed,

Set three alarms and rise at dawn, or you might lose your bread.

For that warehouse waits for no one, and the scanner’s pace won’t slow,

And your PTO and UPT can vanish — as this tale has shown!

Turn in your badge, my buddy,

Give up your pride, I say,

He ran through his banks of PTO and UPT,

And they fired him today!