Whose cubes these are I think I know,
His mansion’s in the West Hills though.
He will not see me sitting here,
Making his software business grow.

My new cubemate bathes once a year,
He’ll stop without a lunch break near.
Stale corn nuts he will intake,
And rant six inches from my ear.

The top execs?  They’re on the take.
Each ex-wife owns a private lake.
They up the profits they will keep
Each time they meet and budget make.

My backlog’s ugly, dark and deep,
But I have deadlines hard to keep,
To satisfy the corporate veep,
To satisfy the corporate veep.

Stumble it!