On Labor Day we celebrate how our great country works.
The rich pay us to kill ourselves and then treat us like jerks.
We celebrate the forty hour week, plus overtime.
They work us hard and bleed us dry. Their money is a crime.
They live in mansions inside gates and take foreign vacations.
We slave until retirement, then expect reparations.
Our medicare and social trough keep us out of the street.
We have enough to clothe ourselves and food that we can eat.
Our biggest entertainment is a cheap beer at the bar,
while they are eating pheasant, good champagne and caviar.
Sometimes on the weekend we’ll drive to the nearest beach.
To a well-off owner, there is no place out of reach.
Cannes and St. Tropez are just a couple destinations.
Workers have a change jar to save money for gas stations.
First class flights and Broadway nights are out of reach for most.
For the elite, it’s meet and greet, anywhere, coast to coast.
And, when we die, we hope to have resources for a stone,
maybe a cross, a sign the boss above threw us a bone.