作者：吴杏梅

　　Your manager told you one day,

　　Never you would have a nice pay.

　　Nice suit never fit for you,

　　Nice words will not come out from you.

　　Poor you are, knowledge from you far,

　　Crying back home you embracing the guitar.

　　You worked so hard but poor fate you found,

　　Asking then so loud but heard your own sound.

　　Finding on net another job,

　　Suddenly saw words on top:

　　Poor buying a handsome tie,

　　But remember not your mie!(Here use “mie”instead of “mind” for sight rhyme.)

　　Taking a tumble then you are,

　　A good future you find not far,

　　One working hand for job,

　　The writing hand never stop!