A Working Man's Purpose Poem by Michael J Williams

Forty years on a factory floor… makes a man cold, hard and efficient
With an economy of motion, he accomplishes his tedious task
After the work is all done, the ‘working man's curse' comes a calling
Weekends are full of aches, pains and aggravations most proficient
Back to work, the aches and pains go away, which is incredibly galling!

Forty years on a factory floor, management appreciates that he's been dependable
Work no longer make sense. His craftsmanship… it seems irrelevant
How work gets done has changed since he started, how work gets done seems all amiss
Back to work, for the poor S.O.B., because blue collars know they're expendable
Back to work, he knows nothing else… this is a working man's purpose?

Forty years on a factory floor, seems like a dream, once it's finished
Time takes its toll, his poor body is broken, plans for retirement finally surface
Once retired, the poor guy is bored so he lines up work to justify his existence
Back to work, anywhere, to kill time and give meaning… which makes it all seem quite diminished
Back to work, no rest for the weary, this is a working man's purpose!