The Man at Work

I like to see the man at work,

     The man who toils each day.

The man who dons his overalls

     And gets into the fray.

I like to see the grinning face

     The mop of tangled hair;

I like to see the muscles swell

     Above the elbows bare.

The man at work a hero is,

     Who takes his pail each day

And trudges off to field or shop

     His uncomplaining way.

Who turns the sod, or strikes the blow

     That makes the iron ring;

An unsung hero, yet he does

     A most heroic thing.

I like to see the human stream

     That pours in town each day,

An army big enough to take

     The city – cold and gray.

An army girded for the toil –

     That nails it in the heart,

A mighty toiling force of which

     I like to be a part.

The man at work, the man who toils,

     With pick and spade, or pen;

All heroes of the workaday,

     All labor-loving men.

Don’t be a non-producer, you

     Who fain would loaf or shirk;

But join the great heroic clan,

     And be a man at work.

April 21, 1911

For April 31 (?), 1911