They say that Stan was very pale
And wan; his health was poor.
Each day, he took his sack of mail,
And went from door to door.
Each morning he would cry and sob
When he got out of bed.
''Oh Lordy, how I hate this job.
I'd rather write, instead.
''Whatever made me heed the call,
The day I saw the ad,
On a small poster in the mall?
I must have been quite mad.''
For Stan was an insomniac
For him to sleep was rare.
And further, he had hurt his back
But no-one seemed to care.
He also had a lifelong fear
(Which caused him much distress)
Of barking, snapping, yapping dogs.
Oh dear me, what a mess.
For every day he'd dodge and jump
And run and hide and shake..
For canines, they were all around
And followed in his wake.
One day, Stan met a Doberman
Who seemed about to bite.
And sadly, I must now report...
He dropped stone dead, of fright!