The Working Man Is A Decent Man
The working man never daydreams of wearing the boss's shoes
But in the pub with his good mates he does enjoy his booze
And he enjoys their every chat of life and of football
Since politics and World affairs doesn't interest him at all.
Devoted to his family and devoted to his wife
The working man is a decent man he leads a moral life
To watch their favourite football team in action he often takes his family
So easy going and down to earth and of any cares he's free.
You never do hear him complain of how times are quite tough
That his wife and family are happy and well for him is good enough
His ancestors like him of working stock they never craved renown
They are amongst the great unsung who helped to build the town.
He gets up in the gray of dawn for work each working day
Let's hear it for the working man a rousing hip hooray
Two of his children are in primary school his youngest for school too young
In his early thirties in the prime of life one of the town's unsung.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Football His Diversion
He is not getting on with his unhappy wife
His Football Club his diversion from his problems in life
He looks forward to the weekend through each working day
To cheer on his team such is life some do say.
He and his wife seem to have little in common at all
She does not have any interest in football
And their nineteen year old daughter is living elsewhere
Experiencing life in the big World out there.
With his mates in the pub football stories they share
A diversion for them from their every care
Than football no greater passion in their lives they can name
To them it is more far more than a game.
It would seem love in their marriage it is of the past
But then few things in life ever do seem to last
On saturday he barracks for his team whilst she
Is with her friend in the cafe enjoying afternoon tea.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Just An Ordinary Fellow
His life revolves around work his mates and football
But his wife and children he seldom does talk of at all
Each evening after work he calls to the pub
Or else to the bar-room of the Football Club.
In his early to mid thirties he is well liked in the town
To have kicked five goals in the local Grand Final is his one claim to renown
And though his team did not win the flag he earned his local fame
With a best on ground display on a beaten side he made for himself a name.
His wife takes care of the children a boy of four and a girl of three
She is not well known in the town few as down to earth as she
So different from her husband she's never seen at the pub
And she is not a member of any local club.
He is a well liked character and in the town well known
And the local people say of him he is one of our own
Not a bad husband and father though better than him not hard to find
Just an ordinary fellow in his own way he is kind.
poem by Francis Duggan
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There Must Be An Easier Way
To earn one's living there must be an easier way
Than working in a menial job for menial pay
You age so fast your hair prematurely gray
And you must work hard till your retirement day.
When you ask the boss for a raise his answer no
For a raise in pay you must have more to show
The unemployed are many and the jobs are few
And there's plenty more to do the job you do.
At 5.30 a m each work day from bed I rise
Before daylight has lit the morning skies
Then long drive to work in smoky old work van
Such is the lot of the common working man.
The chap next door seems better off than I
He does not work yet life he does enjoy
Whilst I'm at work he rest at home in bed
And he doesn't look deprived or underfed
With six year old son and a non working wife
He live an easy and a stress free life
And I've heard it said that he's never worked a day
But good luck to him is all that I can say.
I do not receive or seek sympathy
For there are many far worse off than me
But living life would be a lot more fun
If I did not have to rise before the sun
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Workaholic
He retired from his job on his sixty fifth birthday
But he did not enjoy the work free life
And he died just nine months into his retirement
To be mourned by his family and his wife.
It has been said he was a workaholic
And that he was one who worked as hard as two
And he felt bored without a job to go to
And he pined away as many like him do.
His problem was he did not have a hobby
And a working life the life he loved and knew
A good man for his wife and family and his Country
But good men just like bad men must die too.
For forty seven years he worked for the same employers
And to the end to his bosses was true
His parting gift from them a wrist watch and box of chocolates
And a well done and a shake hands and thank you.
He must have been one who truly liked his bosses
To have worked for them for forty seven years
His last day on the job it was his saddest
And as he left he fought to choke the tears.
His problem was that he did not have a hobby
And he only lived for each working day
And when he left the workforce in his sixties
He fell into ill health and pined away.
poem by Francis Duggan
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This Is The Football Season
This is the football Season it is that time of year
When men in the pub talk football as they enjoy their beer
And look forward to September when one club will fly the winner's flag
The team that wins the Premiership gives their fans the right to brag.
Their wives nicknamed the footy widows their husbands at the football club
Or after work talking football with their mates down at the local pub
They take football so seriously 'tis their passion in life
The footy fan loves his football club as much as his children or his wife.
And if their team lose at the weekend they feel and look so sad
What's known as football addiction they seem to have it bad
They feel sad for their football team and the chance of four premiership points gone
But they cheer up and look forward to next weekend's game as the working week wears on.
This is the football Season football has gone to their head
And their football scarves and beanies they even wear to bed
About their team they feel so passionate as if to them it did belong
And 'tis with delight and pride in victory that they sing the club song.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Old Joe The Black Cattle Dog
Old Joe the black cattle dog has known a better day
Around his jaws he is looking rather gray
He still works cattle but at a much slower pace
A young dog is being trained to take his place,
Old Joe a great cattle dog from a great working line
Is getting old for working cattle at nine
Though still keen to work nowadays he easily tire
The old legs tiring though he still has the desire
To work at cattle but his owner Jimmy say
That Joe is nearing his final working day
He will retire him he has done enough
At his age working cattle for him is too tough
He was a renowned working dog in his prime
But dog and master must bow to father time.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Factory
Early in the morning factory whistle blows,
Man rises from bed and puts on his clothes,
Man takes his lunch, walks out in the morning light,
Its the working, the working, just the working life.
Through the mansions of fear, through the mansions of pain,
I see my daddy walking through them factory gates in the rain,
Factory takes his hearing, factory gives him life,
The working, the working, just the working life.
End of the day, factory whistle cries,
Men walk through these gates with death in their eyes.
And you just better believe, boy, somebodys gonna get hurt tonight,
Its the working, the working, just the working life.
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Working Class Man
The‘working class'man comes home after a hard working day,
Another shift over, a step closer to a much needed wage or pittance of pay.
Trying his best to maintain his and family's basic needs,
Working through his life's prime.
Also trying to plan future seeds,
Until'his retirement time.
Forty years or more of graft and sweat,
At the end of it, What does he get?
Pat's on the back, handshake or maybe a golden watch that is already set!
To remind himself of the good and bad times he may have had,
A reminder if they were funny or sad.
A ticking memory of friends he made or met,
A‘time watch'to watch the pass of time that he's got left.
poem by Guy Lipmore
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A Working Man
I am a working man
up from dawn to dusk.
I till the fields to keep my family fed.
The soil is not my right,
but a gift to me.
If I handle it with care,
crops every year it rewards me.
I am a working man
and when my day is done,
the warmth of my family
fills the place I call home.
Every morning I see
the wonders of the rising sun
and as night approaches,
I watch the moon come up.
My life is sometimes hard,
but I know satisfaction of a job well done.
It is our daily bread,
where our money comes from.
God blessed me with this land
and I look after it for him.
For I am a working man
up from dawn to dusk.
26 November 2007
poem by David Harris
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The Fellow Who Doesn't Fit In
He doesn't play sports drink alcohol or take dope and you might say he doesn't fit in
And he doesn't lust after young women and he's not seen as a man amongst men
He works hard to provide for his family and he leads a good and a clean life
And he is a nice man to talk to and he is faithful to his wife.
He's not a religious type person and he doesn't attend church on sunday
And he too in some ways a sinner the religious zealots might say
And some see him as a social outsider but to live clean should not be a sin
And he deserve respect not scorn the fellow who doesn't fit in.
He doesn't watch football on the t.v. or support any football team
And he's not part of any social club nor does he crave social esteem
Yet he has his many detractors in life it is so hard to win
And his type of man getting rarer the fellow who doesn't fit in.
He doesn't play cricket or football with his children as many a young father do
On sundays with his wife and his young son and daughter he's at the cinema, art gallery or zoo
And he is a man who loves Nature and is loving Nature a sin?
For he is looked on with suspicion the fellow who doesn't fit in.
Politics, women, money and work matters of such topics he tend to stay clear
And he's just your average type of person his children and his wife to him dear
Yet he is looked on as quite boring and his name is mentioned with a grin
And life isn't meant to be easy for the fellow who 'doesn't fit in'
poem by Francis Duggan
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Clarkson
I grew up in a middle class life
With seven to the family I call mine
Working to help my family to stay on top
Caring for myself is second rate
I’ve got a girl as well
I know I’m going to call this one wife
And I’m going to give her everything she wants
So I’m learning and earning
Crossing my ‘T’s and trying to dot my ‘I’s
So I can make something of myself
While those flashy things are just distractions
I’ll turn around and make a better man of me
Rolling up my sleeves and working infinity
So my family has everything
And I know I wont give up on my show
poem by Kaio Clark
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Clampdown
Taking off his turban they said is this man a jew
Cause theyre working for the clampdown
And they put up a poster saying we earn more than you
When were working for the clampdown
We will teach our twisted speech
To the young believers
Train our blue-eyed men
To be young believers
Judge said five to ten - I said double that again
Im not working for the clampdown
Well no one born with a living soul
Could be working for the clampdown
Kick over the wall cause governments to fall
How can you refuse it
Let fury have the hour, anger can be power
Dont you know that you can use it
The voices in your head are calling
Stop wasting your time theres nothing coming
Only a fool would think someone could save you
The men at the factory are old and cunning
You dont owe nothing so boy get running
Its the best years of your life they want to steal
You grow up and you calm down
Cause youre working for the clampdown
And you start wearing the blue and the brown
Cause youre working for the clampdown
So you got someone to boss around
Does it makes you feel big now
And you drift until you brutalize
Youve made your first kill now
I say in these days of evil presidentes
Working for the clampdown
I said lately one or two have fully paid their dues
Working for the clampdown
Working for the clampdown
Hey you are now
Working for the clampdown
Hey you are now
(working for the clampdown)
Kick over the wall (working for the clampdown)
Cause governments to fall (working for the clampdown)
How can you refuse it (working for the clampdown)
Hey get along now
(working for the clampdown)
Giving away no secrets
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Ask Me About It
You ask me about it I have wondered why
So many never know of material success though hard they do try
They work hard and grow old and fade out and die
Is the theory of hard work based on success something based on a lie.
The prime years of life quickly do tick away
They work hard to raise their children then grow old and gray
The woman on average by a few years does outlive her man
Three score and ten years the average human life span.
So many work hard just for survival pay
And the gap between the haves and have nots gets wider every day
And so many hungry for each millionaire
It is a rat race in the big World out there.
You ask me why some people struggle through life
The poor working man and his poor working wife
On their meagre incomes their family must survive
On the sweat of the workers the bosses do thrive.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Love Working On You
(jim collins/craig wiseman)
You woke up this morning
Changes were taking place
You looked in the mirror
A smile was all over your face
cause out of nowhere
Someone was there
Who dared to climb
Those walls you made
Its exciting, a little frightening
But girl dont you be afraid
Thats just the love working
Love working on you
Thats just the love working
Working on pulling you through
Cant even remember
All the sorrow that you left behind
Its a brand new day
Theres a bright new way
And your tears have turned into wine
You never forget
When your eyes met
Or just how clearly you could see
Where the turns are deep in your heart
That lead you to believe
Thats just the love working
Love working on you
Thats just the love working
Working on pulling you through
All of the while you felt forsaken
And all of the while
Loves been waiting, waiting
Suddenly you see how it could be
If we all only felt this way
And for a while girl you can see this world
Looking through the eyes of fate
Thats just the love working
Love working on you
Thats just the love working
Working on pulling you through
Thats just the love working
Love working on you
Thats just the love working
Working on pulling you through
Thats just the love working on you
Thats just the love working
Working on pulling you through
song performed by by John Michael Montgomery
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Suppose Football Does Serve A Purpose
Suppose football does serve a purpose some males do need other interests in their lives
Than working or drinking of alcohol or arguing with or making love to their girl friends or wives
On saturday they go to the football to cheer on their team win or lose
'Tis better for them than going to the local and wasting their money on the booze
At least watching football they won't be losing brain cells as they do when they are on the grog
And next day feeling nauseated and hung over and as sick as a very sick dog
Their partners and wives happy to see them going to the football for to support their football club
They feel that for them it is far better than guzzling down grog at the pub
In football there can be disappointments when your team does not win the game
But for every winner there is a loser and to lose should never be a shame
There's more to life than grog and work and women there is that marvellous game known as football
To you and many others 'tis a passion and your team to you is the greatest team of all.
poem by Francis Duggan
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He Is Such A Joyful Winner
He is such a joyful winner but he does not like to lose
His favourite team won at the weekend so he went on the booze
He could not go to work today he feels fuzzy in the head
And nursing his hangover he lay at home in bed.
A football mad young person he surely loves the game
To be the Club's best barracker is his great claim to fame
At every goal his team kicks he whoops aloud in joy
The man in his late twenties at heart remains a boy.
His beanie in his Club Football colours to bed he even wear
His Club as important to him as his wife and children his type no longer rare
In the pub with his drinking mates their main topic is football
The great players and the winners and the losers of the weekend games they recall.
His team won at the weekend but he is in bed today
For too much celebrating his price he has to pay
He proudly wears the Club colours of his favourite football team
And every victory that they have good for his self esteem.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Kiwi Dave
For forty five years I've been working and I'm just an unfettered slave
And I have gray hairs to show for it I am quoting Kiwi Dave
Five years to go to retirement I was sixty last birthday
And ever since I've started working it's been uphill all the way.
My ex wife said that I was a drinker that I was too fond of the booze
That was her excuse for leaving she said I was born to lose
But I take it in moderation after work three or four beers
And I've been a slave for her and for my children for close to if not twenty years.
Fifteen years ago she left me and she went to live with younger bloke
She got more than half my assets for years to her haven't spoke
She turned my son and daughter against me and my six grandchildren I don't see
And I will spend my usual Christmas on my own watching T.V.
Kiwi Dave is a good person though just a little soured by life
And things for him would have been better had he had a faithful wife
'A woman she can make or break you' with that who could disagree
Dave could see the truth in those words for who would know better than he? .
For forty five years he's been working the hard worker Kiwi
Dave
And for his ex wife and his children for years he has been a slave
He looks older far than sixty the hard life has made him gray
Five more years left till retirement it's been uphill all the way.
poem by Francis Duggan
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You Must Work To Make Ends Meet
Have you ever felt so tired as you struggle out of bed
And switch off the alarm clock with a throbbing in your head
At five thirty in the morning as dawn's lamp brighten the sky
And the fluting of the butcherbird to you is not a thing of joy.
And your wife she is still sleeping on the bed snoring she lay
You must make your own breakfast at five thirty a m of the new day
And as you leave for work at six thirty the children are asleep
But to work to keep your wife and family is a duty you must keep.
Your boss drives a new Mercedes which he need not share with his wife
He's just bought her a new B M W such are the ways of life
You work so hard for that man for what would seem as average pay
And you must drive in your old mid eighties Datsun to and from the work yard every day.
And when you ask your boss for a raise to you he always say
More young men come to me almost begging for a job start every day
You can forget a raise in wages and if you decide to quit that is okay
I won't even ask you for to stay on if working for me you don't wish to stay.
You do not like the man you work for he does not pay you nearly enough
Though you have just got to hang in there even though the going is tough
But you must work just to make ends meet you have got big bills to pay
And you drive your old eighties Datsun to and from the work yard every day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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I find that balancing my life with my work with the kids at St. Jude, working on books, working on my career as an actor and taking time out for my husband and family help to cushion a lot of the blows.
quote by Marlo Thomas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whatever he does should be seen as working at the Presidency and if he goes to Colorado for Christmas, it should be for a minimum amount of time, the family tradition and family get-together aspect emphasized, and it be seen as a working vacation.
quote by Robert Teeter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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