Ray’s full-time showman and self-publicist.
No chance to boost his image ever missed.
His stage our paper mill, his audience
The management with his performance
Masking the real truth.
More like a leading man than leading hand.
Giving his impression of a one-man band.
Efficient , head down, working without aid.
We others toil unnoticed in his shade
Finishing what he started.
Controllers changed with his panache and flair
He leaves for lesser mortals to repair.
The Prince of Patch-ups, his expediency
Has filled our ‘must-do’ board and one can see
He just makes work.
And under every bench expensive gear
Unfixed and mined for parts is year by year
Increasing. Every bit a ’too-hard’ job of Ray’s
And they’ll stay there until the end of days.
If we fix them he’ll then rat them.
At start-up from a shut, when Ray’s on call,
There’s sure to be a loop that won’t control at all.
That’s two hours double time and solid gold
Ray heads straight for that loop, needs not be told.
Could he be psychic?
Ray’s indolence, ineptness, should be clear
Yet those upstairs are snowed by the veneer,
The gloss. that’s crafted by this smooth deceiver.
The most hoodwinked? The die-hard true believer?
Ray himself.