This day we celebrate the American worker,
the farmer, toiling in the fields all day.
Turning and tilling the soil, sculpting life,
from the ground into our bellies, us.
The fisherman who battles the mighty ocean,
making a living in danger of not, life a gamble.
Cold, heat, waves of thundering, crashing power,
at the sea’s beckon and mercy to feed us too.
Fisherman away from family, farmers with,
carrying on their lives, sustaining that of others.
These the workers of muscle tiring sweat and pain,
providing for the nation and the world.
Steel workers creating at the gates of hell,
the steel strengthening the backbone of our nation.
Like the old blacksmith, pounding metal into service,
for much of what we need for what we do.
Rough necks in the oil fields, risking life and limb,
bring home the power, a driving force, like those people.
Drilling into the mother earth, draining life giving fluid,
for industry, country and the people carrying her.
Noise and heat, sweat and blood, factories and fields,
ships and trains, trucks and cars, movement, work.
This was and is the worker that spawned our nation,
carrying it with their backs, on their shoulders.
Those manning the desks that create, track and manage,
processes, people and complexity of the working world.
Moving the pieces and products where they’re needed,
to build a nation sacred, straight and strong.
Once unions supported such people, raising them,
now they ride the backs of such people, using them.
They declare government workers the American worker,
elite among the people comprising this nation.
Bureaucrats living off the sweat of those in the field,
riding the laborer selfishly to elevate themselves.
Stripping those that risk all, of their wealth,
to fill the pockets of self and like thinking cronies.
Those producing the treasure must be valued,
their role must be understood and nurtured.
They must not become serfs toiling under the thumbs,
of the fiefdoms of feudal lords in the government.