Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, WHEN A MAN'S OUT OF A JOB, by SAM WALTER FOSS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

WHEN A MAN'S OUT OF A JOB, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: All nature is sick from her heels to her hair
Last Line: W'en a feller is out of a job.
Subject(s): Labor & Laborers; Unemployment; Work; Workers


ALL Nature is sick from her heels to her hair,
W'en a feller is out of a job;
She is all out of kilter and out of repair,
W'en a feller is out of a job;
Ain't no juice in the earth an' no salt in the sea,
Ain't no ginger in life in this land of the free,
An' the Universe ain't what it's cracked up to be,
W'en a feller is out of a job.

W'at's the good of blue skies, an' of blossoming trees,
W'en a feller is out of a job?
W'en your boy hez large patches on both of his knees,
An' a feller is out of a job?
Them patches, I say, look so big in your eye
That they shut out the lan'scape an' cover the sky,
An' the sun can't shine through 'em the best it can try,
W'en a feller is out of a job.

W'en a man has no part in the work of the earth,
W'en a feller is out of a job,
He feels the whole blundering mistake of his birth,
W'en a feller is out of a job;
He feels he's no share in the whole of the plan,
That he's got the mitten from Natur's own hand,
That he's a rejected and left-over man,
W'en a feller is out of a job.

For you've jest lost your holt with the rest of the crowd,
W'en a feller is out of a job;
An' you feel like a dead man with nary a shroud,
W'en a feller is out of a job.
You're crawling around, but you're out of the game;
You may hustle about, but you're dead just the same —
You're dead with no tombstone to puff up your name,
W'en a feller is out of a job.





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