by James Hamby

To those upon whose backs this country’s built:
We bourgeoisie are feeling loads of guilt;

So, sorry for your barely-living wage,
The times your unions made us rant and rage;

For no time off for sickness or to grieve,
And never giving you parental leave;

For fighting all your bids for better care
(That one seems big now, guess you got us there).

So grocery store workers, one and all,
And farmers, servers, janitors, stand tall!

Today, our heroes, we give thanks to you!
(But we’ll forget it all when this is through).