The Reporter's Job

It's definitely not the job for one

Who want his days to always run

Smoothly and calmly till five o'clock,

The sort of person who loves to mock

Those who work on past their hours,

In whom a creative spirit flowers.

Reporters are people who adore

A varied life, where there is more

To interest them, than there would be

In many other jobs they see.

On any day they can be sent

To cover a story or event;

Whatever the editor happens to feel

That to their readers will appeal.

Bazaars and summer fairs, perhaps,

But also things like the sudden collapse

Of law and order in the street,

As rioters there with policemen meet.

Crime will often form a part

At any local paper's heart.

Reporters need to get around,

Ensuring that they know their ground,

And are aware of what's afoot

So that they can always put

Their copy in, immediately,

The latest news for all to see.

Endless energy has a part

In any good reporter's art,

For often working very late

Is part and parcel of their fate.

Lunches missed - that may well form

A pattern that becomes the norm.

Endless meetings, just in case,

Something of interest shows its face.

Listening to endless tales of woe,

That from individuals flow.

Out and about, come sun or hail,

Good reporters cannot fail

To get the story, just because

The winter weather surely was

A sign to stay in, where warm and dry,

They could just let the hours pass by.

But a job as reporter must entail,

Ignoring all the rain and hail.

If what you want is a peaceful life,

Devoid of any stress or strife,

Then this is not the job for you,

Better find something else to do.

But if variety's what you seek,

A feeling that by the end of the week

Life's been different, life has been fun,

A reporter's job may be just the one.