The Shabbos Goy

On Shabbos you rest, you don't cook, you don't clean,
You don't flip a switch, and you don't make a bean.

But oh! What's to do when the lights will not glow?
When the oven is cold? When the heater says "No"?

You can't strike a match, you can't poke at the fire,
You can't press the button, or twist the old wire.

So who do you call when you're stuck in this ploy?
Why, here he comes running—
The good Shabbos Goy!

He'll push it, he'll pull it, he'll turn it just so,
He'll open the fridge when you can't make it go.

He whistles and hums, "It's a fine little chore!
I'll flick on your kettle, then dash out the door!"

Now some say it's sneaky, a trick, or a game—
But rules are the rules, and they're never the same.

For six days you labor, you hustle, you try,
Then Sabbath arrives—time to rest, not to fry.

And somewhere out yonder, with grin, laugh, and joy,
There waits (don't you know it?)
A kind Shabbos Goy.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shabbos_goy