I know you've always got to have a kind of substitute
Who will throw all the balls back into play.
And you couldn't really do without a deputy manager
Longing for the manager's holiday.
Ad the company will always need a vice-chairperson
Praying for the chairperson's death.
It’s clear that somebody has got to be the second string
And someone has to make do with second best.
Someone must accept that he's the twelfth man
Waiting impatiently to play in the team.
Someone's got to act as the trainee secretary
Typing out ream after ream.
Someone's got to be the magician's assistant
Holding the maestro's gloves.
And someone's got to work as the auxiliary junior
Wishing she was one step above.
I suppose there'll always be a place for the failed musician
Turning the pianist's pages.
And you're always going to find a would-be trainer
Who’ll clean out the animal's cages.
And can the cast do without the poor understudy
Fidgeting i the wings?
Can the golfer get around without his faithful caddy
Carrying his clubs and things?
I know that someone's got to be the student dentist
Getting on everybody's nerves.
And there'll always be a need for a stand-in speaker
Aware that she was first reserve.
And it's no disgrace to be a plumber's mate
Carrying the boss's tools,
Or the temporary relief, a supply teacher
A stranger in a hundred schools.
I guess there'll always be a job for the commis waiter
Peeping through the restaurant door.
You can't have a fight without a heavy-weight challenger
Landing in a heap on the floor.
And you'll often hear the stories of the stand-by sailor
Who never quite made it to sea.
I know all that, but I can't help wondering
Why it's always got to be me.