Song of the Workers

 Song of the Workers

What do I whistle and sing of today?

The leaves red and yellow, the river blue-gray?

The creatures of the woods, the sun’s shining rays?

Nay, the people, the workers, the toilers today!

First, the dray men who truck loads down the long highway,

The dray men who weigh them for that’s how they’re paid.

I sing of the fishermen who cast-off from the quay,

To net finny creatures to fillet and pate.

Hey, then there’s the farmers who make the curds and the whey,

But first turn-up the clay and flail the hay.

They are the keepers of animals that moo, bray, and neigh.

It’s another job to keep them well laid-in by hay.

Finally the doctors and nurses who well earn their pay,

To treat a person rightly and ensure they’re okay.

I sing of the workers who respond without delay,

To what are or may be our needs of today.