Work Poems

Home is the place where the laughter should ring,
  And man should be found at his best.
Let the cares of the day be as great as they may,
  The night has been fashioned for rest.
So leave at the door when the toiling is o'er
  All the burdens of worktime behind,
And just be a dad to your girl or your lad--
  A dad of the rollicking kind.

The office is made for the tasks you must face;
  It is built for the work you must do;
You may sit there and sigh as your cares pile up high,
  And no one may criticize you;
You may worry and fret as you think of your debt,
  You may grumble when plans go astray,
But when it comes night, and you shut your desk tight,
  Don't carry the burdens away.

Keep daytime for toil and the nighttime for play,
  Work as hard as you choose in the town,
But when the day ends, and the darkness descends,
  Just forget that you're wearing a frown--
Go home with a smile! Oh, you'll find it worth while;
  Go home light of heart and of mind;
Go home and be glad that you're loved as a dad,
  A dad of the fun-loving kind.

It needed just an extra turn to make the bolt secure,
A few more minutes on the job and then the work was sure;
But he begrudged the extra turn, and when the task was through,
The man was back for more repairs in just a day or two.

Two men there are in every place, and one is only fair,
The other gives the extra turn to every bolt that's there;
One man is slip-shod in his work and eager to be quit,
The other never leaves a task until he's sure of it.

The difference 'twixt good and bad is not so very much,
A few more minutes at the task, an extra turn or touch,
A final test that all is right—and yet the men are few
Who seem to think it worth their while these extra things to do.

The poor man knows as well as does the good man how to work,
But one takes pride in every task, the other likes to shirk;
With just as little as he can, one seeks his pay to earn,
The good man always gives the bolt that clinching, extra turn.

Let me but do my work from day to day,
In field or forest, at the desk or loom,
In roaring market-place or tranquil room;
Let me but find it in my heart to say,
When vagrant wishes beckon me astray,
"This is my work; my blessing, not my doom;
"Of all who live, I am the one by whom
"This work can best be done in the right way."

Then shall I see it not too great, nor small,
To suit my spirit and to prove my powers;
Then shall I cheerful greet the labouring hours,
And cheerful turn, when the long shadows fall
At eventide, to play and love and rest,
Because I know for me my work is best.

I bargained with Life for a penny,
And Life would pay no more,
However I begged at evening
When I counted my scanty store;

For Life is a just employer,
He gives you what you ask,
But once you have set the wages,
Why, you must bear the task.

I worked for a menial's hire,
Only to learn, dismayed,
That any wage I had asked of Life,
Life would have paid.

The grass needs cutting,
I must mend the gate.
I'm expecting a parcel,
I hope it's not late.
I must get a wash on.
There's the ironing too.
The gas bill needs paying.
There's so much to do.
I must send that email.
I can't really moan,
This is the life,
When you're working from home.

I'm due a long lie in
I must feed the cat.
There's the dishes to do,
I'll get round to that.
I'll de-frost the freezer
If I've got time,
But I'm watching the cricket.
Sky Sports is just fine!
I'll look at that spreadsheet,
Use my mobile phone,
So everyone knows
That I'm working from home.

I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,
Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be blithe and strong,
The carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or beam,
The mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work,
The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat, the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck,
The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench, the hatter singing as he stands,
The wood-cutter's song, the ploughboy's on his way in the morning, or at noon intermission or at sundown,
The delicious singing of the mother, or of the young wife at work, or of the girl sewing or washing,
Each singing what belongs to him or her and to none else,
The day what belongs to the day - at night the party of young fellows, robust, friendly,
Singing with open mouths their strong melodious songs.

Strive at work while you can.
God knows it's why you are a man,
But don't wait till the funds abound
Before you get to slow it down.

Give your calling all you've got.
Rewards to gain, they are a lot;
But don't lose loved ones you have around.
Create the time to slow it down.

Toil for things that you crave,
But how much gets taken to the grave?
As needs are met, the wants compound.
Take the time to slow it down.

Best things in life are from above.
The busy struggles are never enough,
And in this truth, peace can be found.
Find the time to slow it down.

There are times to hurry.
Some things in life call for speed.
But more than ever, I'm learning
That pace is really what I need.

Sometimes I'll ask myself,
What the haste is all about?
When strength is easier maintained
Than regained after burnout.

There certainly will always be
That job that needs to get done.
New challenges will always rise,
So will the battles to be won.

It's healthier to make a plan,
To give to God each new day.
To appreciate the gift of life,
And spend some time to pray.

To rise and stride into the day,
With a goal clearly defined.
And give my best to whatever role
It is that I've been assigned.

To make the space to savour
The joy of a task complete
Before hopping on the next challenge,
To take the time to breathe.

To fit in little things that matter
Than how fast I'd move each day.
Like the lifted mind or grateful heart
I would leave along the way.

To break lofty intents into bits,
And take them one at a time.
To simply take each day as it comes,
And steadily enjoy the climb.

"Cock-a-doodle-doo!" I heard.
I really hate that lousy bird!
I got home late from Betty Lou's,
But now I've got my chores to do.

After oatmeal, ham and eggs,
An outhouse trip to ease my legs,
I braced myself to greet the day
And do the work that came my way.

I fed the chickens, slopped the hogs,
Milked the cows and bathed the dogs.
I marked the heifers with our brand
And wished we had a few more hands!

I plowed an acre for our beans,
Baled the hay and tore my jeans!
I patched the roof and fixed the gate.
I guessed my lunch would have to wait.

I mended fences 'round the farm,
Said, "Howdy!" to the cute school marm
And stood there sweating like a fool,
Wishing I was back in school!

Walking back, our bull attacked!
I dodged the cow flaps in my track!
I made it safely to the fence.
My loss of breath was my expense!

The hayloft boards I nailed were new.
The ladder broke, I fixed that, too.
The barn door hinges were replaced.
There's still another job I faced!

While in the barn, I shoed a horse....
...My energy had run its course....
And as my body hit the ground...
...I saw the sun was going down!

"Come and get it!" Supper calls!
I dragged my body from the stall.
A day I'd rather not repeat.
I hoped I still had strength to eat!

I cleaned manure off my shoes
And wondered if I'd paid my dues.
I brushed my clothes and washed my hands,
Then went to see what food was planned.

I pulled the screen door open wide,
Then struggled just to step inside!
There sat Ma and there sat Pa
With gravy dripping down his jaw!

"There's yer seat." My Papa said,
"Or would you rather go to bed?!"
I shook my head and sat me down.
I ate and didn't make a sound.

"In the morning," Papa said,
"There's sheep to shear.  There's twenty head!
A cord of wood you gotta cut,
And boy....you better move yer butt!"

At last, exhausted in my bed,
I thought of what my Papa said.
I have to do what I've been told!
What else is for a twelve year old?!

Stepping into the boardroom meeting,
Stepped out of character too.
Put a red slipper on one foot,
On the other, a bright blue shoe.

Stress at work was at a peak.
I could hardly contain my grin,
At the shock on each and every face
The moment their boss walked in.

Eyes moved slowly from my feet
To capture my innocent stare.
Each one of them convinced I think,
I was totally unaware.

Unable to contain myself.
My laughter bubbled free.
At my release, they followed suit
Relief conjoined with glee.

Our memorable meeting followed with
Coffee and doughnuts for the staff.
Office policy now includes
Time every day to laugh!

Hopes dashed, dreams fade,
Gotta go to work another day.
Paid my money, bought my ticket
Thought I could tell my boss to stick it.
But here I sit on Sunday night,
Knowing by the morning light.
I'll be back at my desk slaving away,
Hoping to make it through one more day.
And uncle Sam you must be smiling,
Knowing in January I'll be filing.
You've stuck it to me one more year,
More taxes await as I live in fear.
Thanks so much dear President Obama,
For creating all this political drama.
Thought by now I'd be seeing the change,
You promised our country on election day.
But who am I, just the middle class,
To our federal government "Kiss My Ass!"