There is something which disturbs me
In fact it rather perturbs me
When mother Sue lets dear little Bobby
Mangle, tangle, and destroy the lobby
Catsup spills, malt globs, and pickles
Lettuce shreds, lost pennys and nickels
Half eaten Big Macs dropped on the floor
Trails of straw wrappers lead to the door
Hot apple turnover spread on the wall
Oh Yes! I am sure little Bobby had a ball
Table now smothered with food and a tray
Bobby's frazzled mother and son slink away
So we lowly workers do what pittance paid for
Wipe the table and scrub the chairs
Mop the Ronald Red floor
Scrape cement fudge caramel
Obliterate the grime
Make it Mcsparkle in record breaking time
Leave no fingerprints upon the glass
Until another little Bobby comes to pass