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Singing in the Lab

What if, hypothetically, there were a new guy at work who told a guy he was working with: Roger, you can't sing? What if Roger thought he was making a joke and said, yeah, I know, and kept on singing? Then what if the guy said, Roger, I'm serious, when I'm your supervisor on night shift we're going to follow company policy? Do you think maybe a bunch of recording artists might get together and make an album about it?

Credence Clearwater Revival

Oh you show up in the salt lab 
When your shift begin 
Then you think you be a singing 
Better think again
Ain't no singing in the salt lab 
Policy says so 
And you better not complain boy, 
You work for Taliban Joe.

It's the night shift special 
Getting in your face 
Yeah he's something special,
Put you in your place.

If you're ever in the Salt Lab
Boy you better lay low
Boy you better not be singing
Not 'round Taliban Joe.
Lay your cubes upon the table
Keep your mouth shut tight.
Don't be smiling or a-singing 
On your shift at night.

Waylon Jennings

Salt parts ain't easy to make and they're harder to load
One little error and all of the cubes could run cold.
Stuffed shirted lead men with hollowed out brain pans
Make night shift seem boring and long
They can't load a cube yet, but they don't much care
They can not ever be wrong.

Mamas don't let your babies go work in the salt lab
Don't let 'em load pyro and work for a schmuck
Let 'em be singing and whistling and such.
Mamas don't let your babies go work in the salt lab
The hours are too long and the guy in command
Is one salt ring short of a cube.

John Denver

Life in the lab is never laid back
'Cause I just love giving workers lots of flak
Don't you be singing and don't you talk back
'Cause I am your supervisor boy.

Got me a job, got me a title
Don't allow singing or sitting around idle.
You couldn't be more confined in a bridle.
Thank God I'm a supervisor boy.

Merle Haggard

We don't sing any songs out in the Salt Lab
Books out in the lunchroom can't be seen.
We can't spend 6 dollars down at the restaurant.
I know it's silly but it's policy.

I'm proud to be a control freak from the salt lab
The place where even schmucks can supervise.
We still raise all hell if you're caught singing
And don't expect me to sympathize.


Desperate lead man
Why don't you come to your senses?
You've been spouting pretenses for too long now.
You play the hard nose, and I know the reason
The one you think you're pleasing will demean you somehow.

Don't you play a game of hardball when 
You vision is still so dim.
Those means will not achieve expected ends.
Seems to me you're cutting off
The wrong side of the tree limb
The guys you piss off are your only friends.

Desperate lead man
Why don't you come to your senses?
The long-term expenses aren't worth all the strain.
It's not a hard game, you just have to be smarter
Your workers work harder when you give them less pain.

Earl Scruggs

Listen to a story 'bout a man named Joe
Likes to play control freak like some folks that you might know
Then one day when he was wandering around
He perked up his ears when he heard a certain sound.
Music, that is. Song. Joyful voicings.

Next thing you know Joe's panty's in a bunch
And his brain was saying "You know, I have got a hunch
That Roger is singing while he works dutifully
And I'm pretty sure that's against our policy."
Rules, that is. Statutes. Edicts and decrees.

Now it's time to make some fun of Joe and his ways
And to start a betting pool about how many days
Someone strung so tight can last in this society
Before he goes insane from all the impropriety.
Naughtiness, that is. Smiling and laughing and other such sins.

Frank Leany

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