She's an outbreak of gloom in the corner
An affront occluded by pain
She could moan all four legs off a donkey
And persuade it to walk off again

She can curdle the milk in your teacup
She can bore your glass eye to sleep
She can out glum a manic depressive
She can drive a blind hangman to weep

She's here as our union contact
Our problems should all go through her
But I think she's too many already
If it's ok with you I'll demur.

Martin O'Neill

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-right-old-boot/