He walks at 15 miles per hour
And never takes a rest
He can balance half a York
Of packets on his head
He’s the high tech hero
Saviour of a sadly dated sytem
The envy of the world
Britain’s first Robotic postman
…
Well his back is never aching
And his knees they never creak
He’ll never abuse a customer
Cos you’ll never hear him speak
He’s no arthritis or sciatica
And he’ll never slip a disc
And he’ll never phone in with the flu
When last night he was pissed
…
He’s never misdelivered
Or left a parcel in your bin
He won’t walk across your lawn
Cos he’s programmed it’s a sin
He won’t shove leaflets down the drain
When he can’t be bothered
Cos he prints junk mail with one hand
And delivers it wi’ t’other
…
He’ll never get a puncture
Or write off a Royal Mail van
He won’t litter the streets
With discarded rubber bands
His uniform’s immaculate
His punctuality too
And he wont canoodle with
That flirty piece at 42
…
He never takes a holiday
And never goes on strike
He’s never clipped a wing mirror
Or gate post with his bike
He doesn’t open birthday cards
(At least he’s not been caught)
He never nips behind a bush
Cos he’s never taken short
…
But don’t ask him for directions
Cos he’s no time to stop
And he’ll never help a pensioner
Carry groceries from the shop
He won’t charm you
With his cheerful smile
Or crack a dirty joke
And don’t invite him in for coffee
He’s not that type of bloke
…
And when you go on holiday
He’ll not keep a watchful eye
All the neighbourhood means to him
Is service demand and supply
So I suggest we sell him off for scrap
And use the proceeds mostly
To give a generous christmas tip
To your friendly local postie.
…
Cos he only walks quite slowly
And he’s very often late
He never knocks quite loud enough
And he never shuts the gate
He brings unwanted circulars
And he thinks he’s underpaid
But we’d rather have a postman
Than a robot any day.
tasty lancashire 