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Tp fHJf PtUXW WITH THE DINNER PAltI do not bate the rich folks who Live in pomp and ease;It’s their affair and they say do In life just as they please;But when I meet up with a man Who’s going forth to labor With his dinner bucket in his hand He seems to me just like a neighbor. ;No matter if his home he owns.Or if he only rents;His daily wage may be five bones,Or one and fifty cents: j Yet, when I see him pass alongWith a dinner bucket In his hand It somehow fills my heart with song-He’s like a neighbor, understand?Sometimes his clothes are torn and oldAnd patched in many places.But yet he with a courage bold This world of changes faces He is not sorrowful and sad But life for him seeins happy. Although the weather's some times bad,And the boss is ill and snappy.He works from mom till six o’clock, With sweat upon his brow; Handling lumber, steel or rock,Or following the plow,He keeps the world agoing on. Without him work would fail,So, let us cheer the man along Who “Totes” the dinner pail.—ZEB H. WOLFE,“The IPlumber-Poet,’’ Easley, South Carolina.
Newspaper Details
Brevard News
Brevard, North Carolina, US
Thu, Apr 04, 1929
Page 11
Full Page
Clipped by
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Utah, USA 03 May 2025
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