Metsonian

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Three knocks on the door where they fix your radio set.
Eyes cast to the floor where the odds and sods are kept.

"Excuse me for butting in, but I think we could do some trade.
You see, I've heard it's supply and demand, let's talk the terms.
You've got what I want, just sack the staff.
It's a quick turnover and a profit graph, do you see...?"

"You're always turned out smart and I think I can guess the trick.
Some cut-price homemade way of keeping your hair slick.
We'll make your cream in tons! 
Flooding the market, making a kill,
Bung in a stopper and we'll sell, sell sell."

"You've got what I want, just sack the staff.
It's a quick turnover and a profit graph,
Do you see?"

Back at the workshop, 
There's a corner of the bench all covered in oil,
Paraffin and water still on the boil.
Oh trouble and toil.
But think of the profit at sixpence a jar.

"Blimey, himey! Do you think we can pull this off?
What'll the wife say?"

Blocking the sink, disturbing the peace
Using her curtains to mop up the grease.
Ripping the sofa, scaring the cat
Putting a stain on her favourite mat."

"Leave this to me there's nothing to fear,
Business is business, we'll be rich next year.
We've got what they want, just sack the staff.
It's a quick turnover and a profit graph,
Do you see?"

"How was I to know that glass would be like gold?
You can't find jars or tubs for money, love or souls.
We'll have to pack it in,
Cutting our losses, saving our skins.
Pour it away and throw out the bins."

Buckets of hair cream slip down the drain
But quickly returned as it started to rain.

A rap on the door, police filled the porch
Knee-deep in oil they shone like a torch!

"We've 'ad some complaints of a bright white scum 
That floats from this room. 
Do you think you could come to the Yard?" 


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