This is a poem that was written as half of a ballad for my American Music class. I would like to thank my partner, Melissa Hadley for helping me write this and also allowing me the chance to share it on my blog. It doesn’t have music to it yet, but I may be able to look into it some day if those reading this would like to hear it with an accompaniment, so now “Jobs”:

Way, way back in my daddy’s day
Smokestacks were a-puffin’
Jobs all around at every plant,
And Boss-man knew his name.

Oh, now-a-days there are no jobs
People are going poor.
We try so hard to get a job.
The “Suits” don’t seem to care.

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