Ode to the Trailer

The time has finally come for us to bid our last farewells, to the trailer which Katrina made, our paneled walls of hell. A long ten months, indeed, it’s been for us in Loan Control. If we weren’t all crazy then, we’re now certifiable. We’re heading home to Larcher soon, or so we have been told. So many times we’ve heard this news, And now it’s growing old. Management says it’s a go this time, And we better start a’packin, Grab our boxes, phones, and files, And tell Chuck to get a’crackin. Words of wisdom from the “trailer people” To the inhabitants of our home, Keep your chins up and your insurance paid, For you may need Trazadone. No running water, no pipes, no plumbing, no hallways, walls or doors. No break room, bathroom, or privacy, there’s duct tape on the floors. The time we shared together there was just this side of great. We learned more about each other, Than I care to elaborate. We gladly go with open hearts, with warm hugs and hellos, to our fellow comrades there on, the corner of Larcher and Meadows. So farewell ole trailer, our keeper of conversations. We’ll always have a special bond with you, And your deluxe accommodations. So soon you’ll be a memory on which we can reflect. For we were collector’s without a home, Keesler’s department of rejects.