Life Of A Partsman
I work behind the counter
in an automotive store,
Sometimes I'm a "genious"
Sometimes I'm called much more
I claim I'm no Mechanic
But, when the job gets sick,
The Mechanic comes and asks me
What makes the darn thing tick.
I'm supposed to know the numbers
Of bolts, nuts and gears,
For every car that was ever made
For more than fifty years.
I'm an Engineer and Machinist
And what not, oh My Lord,
I'm supposed to be an Edison
Combined with Henry Ford.
But life would be a pleasure
And I'd grin from ear to ear'
If the customer would only tell me
The Make, Model and Year.
?ÿ
I have thought about this. Maybe this and the pic of the "Last Traverse Point", could be combined, and rewritten with a surveyor.
There's something there.
Nate
Courtesy of ChatGPT with some modification:
I work in the field,
As a land surveyor, you see,
Expected to possess knowledge
That's often obscure to me.
I'm not a civil engineer,
Nor a geodesy expert,
But when the construction crew needs answers,
To me, they come to assert.
I'm supposed to know the layout
Of every plot of land,
And find every boundary marker
For miles upon miles of sand.
I'm a cartographer and mathematician,
And what not, oh My Lord,
I'm supposed to be a Copernicus
Combined with Euclid's reward.
But life would be much simpler
And I'd breathe a sigh of relief,
If the client would only tell me
The legal description in brief.
Arrive at the land
I see the boundary line
Its aura glowing
