I would be anything for you except:

A salesman,

Postman,

Policeman,

Fireman,

Doctor,

Lawyer,

Butcher, baker, or candlestick-maker,

Tinker, tailor, soldier, or spy,

Politicians are liars and drink only ruin,

A barkeep I’d loathe, deal with drunkards and bruisers,

As for engineer, I only have half a brain,

While the side less travelled goes slowly insane,

Nurses are underpaid, work too-long hours,

And I’m poor with finance, couldn’t be an accountant.

I’m so-so at poetry, but no one would read it,

It’s too controversial, not politically correct.

Same with my writing and songwriting too,

I’ve a penchant to speak my mind much more than I ought to.

But, alas, my allegiance, it lies with the word,

And although I deem sensitivity training absurd

Let it be so, for what does it matter

If you are offensed by my prose and my chatter.

Don’t read it at all, if that’s how you feel.

I suppose it’s a gift, not caring what others think,

Though doing so in the public eye is a calculated risk,

I could be cancelled, or framed in a scandal,

But what does it matter if I know what is and what isn’t so?

What does it matter if I go the path I chose,

Instead of the one you told me to follow.

Yes, I would be anything for you except everything you want me to be.