IT WAS JUST before Christmas in the Capital City
When The Boss broke the news. He said:
“Boys – this ain’t pretty.
I just got a fl ash from our western-most post.
There’s a shortage of cash on the Vancouver coast.
It could be an error, or it could be a crime,
But there’s no doubt we’re missing a ‘55 dime.”
The second he said that a gasp fi lled the place.
There was anger and outrage on everyone’s face.
Computers stopped clicking; talking went dead.
Just the clock kept on ticking, till one of us said:
“It can’t be the records; they all check out right.
There’s no way that coin is a mere oversight.”
The Boss nodded grimly and he surveyed the room,
Which was frozen in silence, like a dark dusty tomb.
“Cancel all leaves!” he said. “Stop all vacations!”
“We’re facing a Code One cash violation.”
“Put a team on those records; I don’t care ‘bout the cost,
“I want every coin checked out to see what’s been lost.
