The poem is only a few words long, but it sketches a whole working life. The speaker describes themselves and the office as "one wen," a wen being a lump or cyst on the skin. That's not a flattering picture. It suggests the worker and the workplace have grown together into something swollen and unhealthy, a bump that doesn't belong but can't easily be removed.
The last two lines feel like what's left of life outside work. "A pasty" suggests a quick, ordinary lunch, eaten without much ceremony. "A merry bed" is warmer, a hint of rest, pleasure, or comfort at the end of the day. But the poem gives these tiny scraps rather than a full life, which makes them feel a little thin, maybe even ironic.
The title, "The good worker," adds a dry twist. Being good at the job seems to mean being absorbed by it. The mood is wry, compressed, and slightly bleak, with a flicker of dark humor.