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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 18:21:38 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 46013
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Newbie
[time] => 2004-05-03 14:25:36
[hometext] => This poem pertains to my first month working at Price Chopper.
[bodytext] => You walk into the store Everyone stops and stares You look around and hear whispers The whispers say "she's new, what she like"? They whisper and whisper They order the newbie around She feels like a chicken with her head cut off They play pranks on her and make jokes They make her do things They wouldn't even do She expects it, she knows whatever They throw at her, she will do It's an initiation, a hazing, a ritual Everyone that's new has to go through it They give you a nickname As a passage of rights Now she's one of them ohh boy But she's still being whispered, whispered about When will the newbie become an oldie? When will the whispers become no more? [comments] => 1 [counter] => 144 [topic] => 65 [informant] => StoneAngel [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 0 [associated] => [topicname] => toughstuff )
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