The CEO reported:
Profits are up, keep costs down,
Cut insurance and benefits.
Do it without a frown,
We can truly treat them as clowns.
The poet read:
We are not the blacksmith,
Society’s need for what we do is not decreasing.
We are stewards of this planet that we are only leasing,
We are not the blacksmith.
The plant manager demanded:
Work harder and faster for less,
Take short cuts, cut corners,
Just don’t get caught,
Cause I will fire you if you are.
The singer sang:
We are not the milkman,
Our deliveries are in demand.
The 9th ward needs what we remand,
We are not the milkman.
The foreman yelled:
There’s an empty lug on the chain,
What’s the matter with your brain?
My bonus depends on the quota,
Get back to work and drop your soda.
The journalist wrote:
You are not the elevator operator,
Our homes can not go up without your wood.
Our hardwood floors won’t look so pretty,
You are not the elevator operator.
The Urbanite was heard to say:
We must use plastic to save a tree,
Oh by the way please pass the brie.
Wood cabinets, furniture, floors, and doors I adore,
It’s only when they harvest that I adhore.
The Local President said:
We are not disposable.
We run your machines,
We keep them going.
We create the wealth you keep.
We are not disposable.
The Republican worker proclaimed:
They will take my gun,
Life won’t be so much fun.
Who cares if insurance is not a must,
As long as in God We Trust.
The Democratic worker pondered:
I know we must save the planet,
But ours is a renewable resource.
Why is it always taken for granted?
That what we do is par for the course?
I say
T’is the holiday season,
Time for joy with no reason.
Neo-cons will continue to ignore Keynes,
Until workers lose those pesky chains.
Bon Fete!
December 15, 2006
