Ballad Work Poems | Ballad Poems About Work

These Ballad Work poems are examples of Ballad poems about Work. These are the best examples of Ballad Work poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Ballad |


Springs around the corner
what wondrous things we'll see,
bulbs popping up above the ground
giving joy to you and me,
time to tidy up our plot, lots of digging too,
weeds to pull, beds to hoe
lots of things will have to go. 
You have to be a little brave
if that rose you want to save,
but you will learn that over time
you've got to be cruel,  just to be kind,

The flower beds need a tidy
take all that dead stuff off the top,
veg plots being well dug over
hoping for a bumper crop.

Seeds to sow, hope they'll grow !
then the lawn will need a mow.

And when all the hard work is done
you can sit back and be pleased, 
wind , rain and sun you have grown all you need.

Copyright © jacque lee | Year Posted 2007

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Poetry Soup

Since joining just yesterday,
I have not had much to say,
As I sit here idle,
Waiting for a title,
I watch as you pass my way,

I am honored to be here,
While a select few may jeer,
Mostly I can see hope,
From the end of my rope,
Bringing about a joyous tear,

For all poets who have been called,
Disenchanted or enthralled,
Our mission always true,
We inform and move you,
To make you act or make you halt,

To rise above and expound the truth,
Or to lose ourselves in a groove,
Whether blatent or far out,
We live to learn - live to shout,
About love, laughter or the blues,

For although I may be new,
To this small poetic group,
I see what you've built,
With talent and skill,
Namely this Poetry Soup,

Copyright © My Gull Wheels On | Year Posted 2006

Details | Ballad |


I'm sitting here again,
Just waiting for a call
So I can put on my suit
And help someone get up from their fall.
It's not an easy job,
This whole Superwoman thing.
Flying through the sky,
Moving at lightening speed.

As I sit here waiting,
I'm contemplating
Whether or not I should do something,
Because this is getting boring.
The music is on its sixth rotation.
I had every word memorized after the second,
But I know as soon as I start something,
Of course, I'll hear the ring.
It never fails.

When it finally does ring,
I put the "S" on my chest.
I'm there in two seconds
Helping clean someone's mess.

Broken lives and tattered dreams,
This is my reality.
Broken hearts. So many tears
I've wiped from eyes for all these years.
The children are the hardest to behold.
How do I save them from shattered homes?
The "S" on my chest is only a sign.
I'm not God. I can't go back in time.
I can't change the lives given to them.
I'm just here to help their little hearts mend.

When my job is done,
I head back home,
Take the "S" off my chest,
And lay down to rest.
Until the next time I get a call
And put my "S" back on to save someone from their fall.

Copyright © Stephanie Whitley | Year Posted 2008

Details | Ballad |

Coconut Vendor

He is a simple dark man, wearing colourful clothes,
Tall and robust with a perfect straight nose,
Such caring eyes and a generous smile, 
His walks along the beach for miles and miles,
Singing the coconut song,
Coconuts, coconuts, get your fresh coconuts.

What a skillful man, his hands create art,
With a sharp cutlass, he splits the husk apart,
An gleeful little boy impatiently licks his lips,
Drops his cricket bat to take a sip,
Singing the coconut song,
Coconuts, coconuts, get your fresh coconuts.

The sound of the bell, is a rhythm so sweet,
Tied to the cart, controls the movement of feet,
He is ready to battle with a coconut in hand,
To satisfy his customers' every demand,
Singing the coconut song,
Coconuts, coconuts, get your fresh coconuts.

A distant ping pong is heard, his heart jumps with delight,
He strides to the Queen's Park Oval, what a majestic sight,
A vision of splendour counteracts the sun's heat,
Carnival revellers dancing to steelpan in the streets, 
Singing the coconut song,
Coconuts, coconuts, get your fresh coconuts.

He is an oiled machine, flawless and fluid,
Playfully chops the nut, his talent undisputed,
Mouth-watering coconuts are devoured within seconds,
The mighty magician serves all who beckons,
Singing the coconut song,
Coconuts, coconuts, get your fresh coconuts

The travel is nearly over, on this successful day,
His cart is empty, his pocket full of pay,
Wiping his forehead with his sweaty palms,
He thinks about tomorrow with reverence and calm,
Singing the coconut song,
Coconuts, coconuts, get your fresh coconuts.

Along the beach, his journey ends,
Back to the coconut plantation, which he tends,
The sunset is glorious, his heart is at peace,
Our thirst is quelled, he has satisfied the beast, 
Singing the coconut song,
Coconuts, coconuts, get your fresh coconuts.

Copyright © Simone Johnson | Year Posted 2008

Details | Ballad |

Leave the Ninety-nine

We must leave the ninety-nine
To go search and find
The one lost sheep
Wand'ring far behind
We must leave the ninety-nine
To go search and find
The one lost sheep-
Left behind  (Chorus)

Just suppose one of you has a hundred sheep
Then loses one of them and begins to weep
Would you not leave the ninety and nine
And go after the one on your heart and mind
And when it's found you would hold it closer
And carry it home upon your shoulders
Then call all your neighbors and gather all your friends
Celebrating your sheep that's back in the fold again

Likewise there's more rejoicing
In Heaven up above
Over one lost soul who will repent
Than for the ninety-nine
Who are already found
To be righteous and so obedient  (So..)


Now suppose one of you has ten silver coins
But then loses one of them from your collection
Would you not light the house and sweep the floors
Searching very carefully for what is yours 
Would you not put away the other precious nine 
And look in every corner until the lost one you'd find
Then call all your neighbors and gather all your friends
Celebrating you have your coin in your hand again



But don't forsake the congregation
And now's the time for visitation
To lead the lost ones to salvation
With God's angels in celebration


Copyright © Leon Stacey | Year Posted 2006

Details | Ballad |

Bubba bubba bound Bubba bubba bound

Bubba bubba bound Bubba bubba bound on my drumes i like to pound. 
Bubba bubba bound Bubba bubba bound i think it has a very cool sound. 
Bubba bubba bound Bubba bubba bound i would love to here it going around. 
Bubba bubba bound Bubba bubba bound don't let it turn your smile into a frown. 
Bubba bubba bound Bubba bubba bound here there where ever i am found in the sky or on the ground. 
Bubba bubba bound Bubba bubba bound i am so glad JESUS CHRIST  i have found. Bubba bubba bound Bubba bound and heaven someday i am bound. 
Buba bubba bound Bubba bubba bound.

Copyright © craig schaber | Year Posted 2011

Details | Ballad |

Baa Baa Black Sheep

Baa Baa Black Sheep
We don't want your wool.

Please sir, Please sir,
I have three bags full.

You are too old.
You are out of date.

But I work hard,
And I'm never late.

You don't have the
Look we're looking for.

That's no reason to
Boot me out the door.

We want new skills
For this vocation.

But I have twice
The education.

You have too much
Experience now.

But they have none!
They don't even know how!

Baa Baa Black sheep,
We don't want your wool.

Job security?
I've been played the fool.

Copyright © Rachel Kovacs | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ballad |

How the West Was Won

When he emigrated to North Dakota
Daddy came to help fill needed quota
Of young, strong men of honest worth
For untamed land at its new birth.

He met my mother, strong as he,
Raised seven kids including me.
He broke wild mustangs to the halter
And from cold or heat would never falter.

The settlers in this brand new land
Weren’t looking for the wild cow-hand,
The drifter who’d collect his pay,
Then casually be on his way.

Some would then join an outlaw band,
Before the law came to the land. 
Though their kind earned infamous glory,
Men like my dad were the real story.

North Dakota had only been a state,
Ten years when Daddy tested fate.
He left Eastern standards and aesthetics,
Armed only with his strong work ethics.

He and his kind would build the schools,
And churches and towns and follow rules.
It took big men to build the west.
I claim my dad one of the best.

He homesteaded in nineteen hundred one
And that is how the west was won.

Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ballad |

Labor Day Poem

    The broad 
    of the American 
   celebrate on Labor day 
        the efforts 
          hard working 
       of the past 
have made
  to build a 
better place 
     for those descendants to 
live in 
  This Labor Day
reflect on the 
   struggles that 
we've gone through 
   over the last 
couple of hundred years 
   The late Studs Terkel 
knew this well 
    He is gone 
but left a legacy for us 
   Whatever you do for a living 
    you should be honored on 
               this day 
   and take a minute or two
to think about 
   those how have 
   so that the rest of us 
 can have a better life 

Copyright © Matthew Anish | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ballad |

To Make it to Tomorrow

To make it to tomorrow,
I must first get through today;
And with the hardships I must conquer,
Tomorrow seems so far away.

To make it to tomorrow,
I must first get out of bed;
Awaken from a night full of rest,
In hopes to clear my head.

I don myself my work clothes,
And greet the morning sun;
With persistence and resilience,
to see the work gets done.

To make it to tomorrow,
I fight the roaring crowd;
of cars and trucks and buses,
that race with engines loud.

The radio is playing, 
The wind blows through my hair;
And with a coffee and some music,
soon I will be there.

Copyright © christopher schott sr. | Year Posted 2015

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Copyright © robert ray | Year Posted 2008

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Pipe Dreams!

In our lives filled with lofty goals,
We may reach for much beyond our means,
And as interest is piqued and grows,
We sell wisps of notions as our pipe dreams, 

Yet while news breaches concerned factions,
Of those who would off-hand discount our plan,
You may well consider these actions,
To be the final throes of a desperate man,

Watch me rush headlong at windmills,
Listen to my brave and salient battle cries, 
For with nothing I easily afford the shills,
This puffery of pipe dreams which may sink or rise,

Take account of what may be lost,
Incredible credible reputations,
So to me the onus is tossed,
And I afford pipe dream facilitations,

But as prospect becomes tangible,
And peppered pipe dreams begin to spin,
Overt liability then manageable,
The need for my Quixotic services thin,

The writing’s on the wall distinct and clear,
Yet I long for the impossible it seems,
Where I keep the company of the grand seer,
And remain the nexus of fantastic pipe dreams.

- Before I get too much bad press here I want you to know 
the term ‘Puffery’ means to build something up with flowery language.

Copyright © My Gull Wheels On | Year Posted 2009

Details | Ballad |

I know You Cape Breton

Hey, how are you

	Have you heard this one?
	Where there’s a midnight sun

		Listen to me now,
		Listen up young one
		One day I left someone

	Where did you say
	you were going?
	She looked so sad
	with her tears showing

		showing her a map of you,
		around the world to you,
		flying so fast at you,
		I left my Papua New Guinea,
		my home sweet home for you.

			So... like déjàvu, 
			You look so...
			Do I know you?
			No, don't say no...
			I know you!
			you were in my dreams

	You know that moment, 
	when you see her, 
	the light,
	that shines, 
	that lifts you high 
	into outer space so high

oh how I longed for you,
Just you and me,
your seasons, my wonder..
I wonder when thunders,
remind my mind, 
my sleeping child,
suddenly awake,
But Nova's away..

	They say people say,
	you'd miss home, 
	you'll miss POM..
	you said no,
	No, No, No
	you'll be home
	From winter to Autumn
	Just you and I
	you'll be fine

		So when the leaves fall,
		Or when snow falls,
		Remember me,
		Remember us,
		Our time, may be dying,
		Maybe someday I'll find,
		My child no child,
		and the sun so fine,
		I'll be home bound,
			To my Ocean playground..


Copyright © Moi Kaira | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ballad |

The Other Side of Work

The Other Side of Work

When from afar you look
  The door of a big office
Tiny hole, an obscure it is
  A little square of an orifice.
Draw near; knock to enter
  Inside Big Guy you’ll find
Commanding heaps of books
  To obfuscate others’ mind.
Wings of Authority spread
  Like Eagle on safe pinnacle
Directing some dire Subjects
  Feet laced on taut manacle.
“A blue chip Firm, this is
  “Trade Cowards make way,
“Shall ye fear being a brigand
  “You’ll not eat yor hay!!”
Big Guys in black robes
  Studied minds to bend
Slaves are flashed by brains
  If they laze or pretend.
Shiny Tables tell tales:
  Souls here meet their Fate
Planned; non-existent Objects
  Toil, Coffers to inflate.
To the fiscus they submit
  Economy to make grow
Sound wealth is sound workers
  Not bleeding them to straw!
A few work for their future	
  Some are toiled and broken
Others have a broken Future;
  To retire with just a token!
A few are worked alright
  Others; minors in their prime
Trapped by naivety of age
  Bleed for an empty dime!
On and on they rant and rave
  The heartbroken to goad
And toil them to near death
  Not to listen to their load.
They then rise up the ranks
  For their loyalty to enslave
Power to deal or despatch
  Of those who “misbehave.”
Who cares for their ambition
 These miserable chaps
Who have unfulfilled need
   To fill up their empty gaps?
To work is good, we all say,
  To be killed at work is bad.
As we relate Boss and Slave
  Stop making another sad.
Man must work to eat, yes
  Why would one savour
Another who works to eat
  With appetite and flavour?

This is the other side of work
We all must start to work!


13th Nov’ 2013


Copyright © Joseph Matose | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ballad |


On the outer Paroo where most septics are few 
And the outhouse has still pride of place; 
Poor old Toby McPhee worked a small property 
With his son and his darling wife Grace. 
When the milking was due and the harvesting too, 
His son Fred seemed to just disappear. 
Though they looked everywhere this bewildered old pair 
Found no trace of their poor little dear. 
I've the paddock to plough and I need the boy now 
As the horses are harnessed and ready. 
Then he saw the smoke rise and to Toby's surprise; 
'Twas the outhouse that hid his young Freddy. 
"So the silly young bloke seems to fancy a smoke. 
Well I've just the right cure then for him." 
As he led the horse team Toby's eyes gave a gleam 
And the lazy lad’s future looked dim. 
He then hooked the team to the log skids on the loo, 
While the slack was worked out of the chain. 
With the reins in his hand he then gave the command 
And both horses then took up the strain. 
Poor young Fred he was perched on the seat when it lurched, 
Though soon ended up down on the floor. 
With Fred's pants 'round his knees Toby heard his wild pleas, 
But he goaded his horses some more. 
The lad's fag hit the pan and a fire soon began 
With the paper and sawdust alight. 
Then the skids hit a hollow and what was to follow 
Was one hell of a horrible sight. That pan flew in the air and though Fred crouched in 
All the angels they must have been out. 
For the team in a trot had sent airborne the lot 
And the contents were scattered about. 
Toby's lungs out of air he then reined in the pair 
And the curing had come to a close. 
Fred emerged from the door looking terribly sore, 
While the pong was quite strong on the nose. 
When there's work now to do on the outer Paroo 
Our young Fred McPhee's work is  hectic. 
For he saves all his dough, but it's not for smokes though, 
As their place is now going septic. 

Copyright © Merv Webster | Year Posted 2005

Details | Ballad |

US Under Alien Stars

Here's to all that put up a good fight. A tough battle of day, so we can all safely sleep  tonight.

Our brother troops on a foreign ground, wide awake with evil all around. 

Outcasts in a bleak lifeless place. Any free time, just trying to picture your face. 

Day falls away, and out comes glimmering stars. Not much else to see here, but broken walls and burned up cars. 

Within many U.S. troops, thrives a common hope. To defeat these psycho groups, is what we all mainly scope. 

Day by day, days drag on. More time here and more friends gone. 

Many wish on these stars in the sky. A common wish to finally say goodbye! 

Some time from now and not too long, mission complete and soon to sing the song. 

These years have come and past. We all have grown very strong, and the bond will always last. 

Next up coming, will be our ride back home. Back with our family and freedom to roam.

Copyright © Alex Doumak | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ballad |

Another day at BMCC

     Students walking around 
chatting, laughing
    I just gave a group a 
   The weather is cold out - at 
least it is warm in here
    it is warm in here
        I believe I will keep 
this job a while more 
    The time has come 
for me to show a poem
   to some students and facult y
at this institution 
Hope they like it! 
  No money in poetry 
       But it is a damn good way to 
        Let the dark winds 
blow where they will
      BMCC is still here 
Instructing thousands of people 
   from many different lands

Copyright © Matthew Anish | Year Posted 2011

Details | Ballad |

while ur at work

Here goes another day,
I think of you while ur away at work,
I know u think all I do is play.
Throughout my day.
But really it ain't the same
I do my best to hold up my part,
U blame me for,
Things of all sorts...
What you dont see is 
That I care for u in every way...
An thoughts of u is,
What gets me through my day
Till u come home with a smiling face
That over fills heart 
With joy...

Copyright © Chelsey D Moore | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ballad |

Go to the Ant

Go to the ant and learn (2x's)
Go to the ant, ant, ant
Go to the ant and learn-  (Chorus)

She digs her house down deep
She builds her house up high
And though she has no king
Her armies stay alive

In the summer she will reap
For the coming winter sky
She gathers everything
Her colonies survive


Consider all her ways
She's small but she expects
Her people stay as one
And she is strong and wise

So number all your days
Prepare for what comes next
And til everything is done
Let no sleep tempt your eyes

Go to the ant, ant, ant (3x's)
Go to the ant  


Copyright © Leon Stacey | Year Posted 2007

Details | Ballad |

Lazy Hound Dog Blues

The alarm goes off, I open my eyes to face the day 
I roll back over to sleep it away 
The wife begins to preach to me 
No work, unemployed, I am free 
I go to the unemployment office and talk to the man 
He looks at my state and says he will do what he can 
The man asks me which of the three jobs I choose 
I don't want a job, I guess I've got those Lazy Hound Dog Blues 
I go outside, sit at the bench and wait for the bus 
I've got nowhere to be, I ain't in no rush 
It's getting to be late in the afternoon 
Getting hungry and will be home soon 
My wife left me a note saying were through 
At the moment I don't care, it's the curse of the lazy hound dog blues 
I tell myself tomorrow I will look for a job 
Gotta clean myself up, no one will hire a slob 
The alarm goes off I hit the snooze 
Not today, I am nagged by those lazy hound dog blues 
My wife calls, says she wants to work things out 
I try to explain, she begins to shout 
She won't listen what's the use 
I tell there is a cure for the flu 
But how do you shake the lazy hound dog blues

Copyright © Eugene Carmen | Year Posted 2008

Details | Ballad |

Beer Money, Wine Taste

If you could read my mind you'd know that I'd never talk
And if I could stretch a mile you'd know that I'd never walk
But I've got to get up to go to work to my nine to five
To keep the pace in this rat race I have to survive
But this minimum wage pay will never help me out Lord
So I need more cause I want more than I can afford

Cause all my friends are driving Benz's and wearing expensive clothes
With bigger houses and finer foods so this is my status in quo

I've got beer money, I've got wine taste
Can you see it in my eyes, its written on my face
Give me this, give me that and I don't want to wait
But I've got beer money, I've got wine taste
And uh~ beer money, and uh~ wine taste
Always make me wanna haste but that leads to waste
So I'm praying for some patience and little more grace
With my~ beer money and my~ wine taste         (Chorus)

But my money and my patience's short, the line is long 
And when things start looking right in life what's left is wrong
I need extra strength this and I need fast relief that
Someone call western union hurry cause I need some cash
To pay my debts and all my bills, I'm planning to buy a lot
Because I'm always wanting something that I just don't got

Cause all my friends are driving Benz's and wearing expensive clothes
With bigger houses and finer foods so this is my status in quo

I've got beer money, I've got wine taste
Can you see it in my eyes, its written on my face
Give me this, give me that and I don't want to wait
But I've got beer money, I've got wine taste
And uh~ beer money, and uh~ wine taste
Always make me wanna haste but that leads to waste
So I'm praying for some patience and little more grace
With my~ beer money and my~ wine taste         (Chorus)

I need designer hats and jeans,
A limousine on the scene
To keep up with the Jones;
I need some precious stones.
I want to be in the spotlight
In restaurants day and night
With the means to these ends nonstop;
I wanna be filthy rich so I can shop.


Copyright © Leon Stacey | Year Posted 2006

Details | Ballad |

Hotel Lobby

Hotel Lobby

To be in a lobby is oh such a shame,
Lonely and troubled it’s all such a game,
Suits and stubble typing like pawns,
Fed to the lions before going cold.
Success in their minds with a stench of despair,
As they desperately struggle to sustain a soul.
Battered and worn with the internet scorned,
Corporate specials are oh such a bore.
Stiffly dressed, there’s nowhere to hide,
A pint at the bar is a stretched slide.
Universal wallpaper from the hotel land 
surrounds every painting that’s oh so bland.
Laptop in hand they now must run,
Pretending to be busy is all part of the fun.
The starch duvet awaits and morning will come,
Lies must be told and dirty deals done.
The significant shudder of newspaper pages echo the sterile breakfast tables,
Days of ignominy will consistently need snippets of stories to spin the reels.

Copyright © Jenny Reynolds | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ballad |

My Pain

Life is an array of twists and turns
Nightmares to conquer and dreams to burn

Why must I wait
for the opening of the gate
The world outside is a forest and dark
and the people are it's bark

The lies
To dust
Cries for something more
and they drag you in because they must

What's the point?
You work to meet them
then work harder to defeat their memory
To undo their damage
and disconnect the joint

One man that knew no better
Didn't mean to make me any upsetter
When he said it was better this way
But I'd love to forget it any day

For years I've seen it
So many tears I've tasted for it
Betrayal never gets old
ask me sometime and the story will be told


All the things I disgust
and leave the taste
that leaves me to a further distrust


So many I can name
So many I can blame
So many I can claim at one point
and deny me what I want

But if you don't know, you don't know me

Copyright © Thomas Brown | Year Posted 2009

Details | Ballad |

Working Man

Stiff joints, 
Tired to the bone, 
For mere coins, 
I work all alone, 

Rough hewn hands, 
Tarnished by labor, 
While times slipping sands, 
... Erode this old trader, 

Get a little ahead, 
Then quickly fall behind, 
What more can be said, 
Abound trudging this old grind, 

I give all I can, 
They take more away, 
Until left in my hand, 
Is less than yesterday, 

How can this be, 
How can I survive, 
When all I can see, 
Is barely staying alive, 

There's no promise for me, 
No hope of retiring, 
There's no future I see, 
Except one of perspiring, 

Where is the hope, 
When this road is endless, 
How can I cope, 
When I am left defenseless, 

No dreams can I see, 
No prayers answered today, 
But I work endlessly, 
To find a way one day, 

To find answers, 
Answers to my prayers, 
Where hope finally swears, 
To live up to my cares, 

And hope blooms, 
From the hopeless life, 
Which fills this room, 
Bringing me such strife, 

And should this prayer, 
Be answered by God, 
I know that I'll swear, 
To give him all I've got, 

But I know this is just, 
A passing dream of mine, 
And I will do what I must, 
To keep towing the line, 

And I know the Lord, 
Has others with greater needs, 
So he can not afford, 
The time to fool with me, 

An old salty soul, 
Who is truly lost and sad, 
But this is my role, 
And it really isn't all that bad...

by My Gull Wheels On
a.k.a. Michael Wilson

Copyright © My Gull Wheels On | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ballad |


By Tom Brown


Never once the good coming into the bad but the bad slowly becoming good
Evolving from one into the other like a seesaw of drama and reality
Varying only by what it is now
Every time hitting just as hard
Ripping into my soul only to heal itself over the hard times

Questions from before become questionable
Usually leading to more confusion
Initially meant to ease the mind but becomes
The never ending cycle of life

In this time my will is tested

Judgment swings it's hammer in due time
Used solely to set me free from one hell and
Soaring into what could be another
Time consuming hole in which I may not return from...but

Faith is
Only giving me the drive to continue
Life is a test inside another
Looking from the outside inward
Only to test me further and
Warranting me my chance at something better in the future

Maybe my life has more meaning than I thought
Yet I still find myself tested

Hopefully I can still go on
Eventually the tests will end
And my efforts to survive this will be noticed
Rewarding me my freedom
Then maybe I can find what I've always been searching for...

Copyright © Thomas Brown | Year Posted 2009

Details | Ballad |

State of the nation

This world is getting tougher to survive everyday.
The cost of living is more than my pay.
It's going to get worse that's what the old folks say.
The bad times are here and here to stay.
Just look at the shape of the U.S.A.
we're afraid to let our children go out and play.
Maybe we all need to get on uor knees and pray.

Jobs are getting harder and harder to find.
What I own ain't worth a dime.
Inflation is up and so is crime.
Alot of real good people are in a bind.
Can't even get care when your in your prime.
Most everyone you know have fallen on hard time.
I can't help them out when i'm worried about saving mine.

Career politicians keep sucking us dry.
They tax everything we own and anything we buy.
Most of us blue collars will work till the day we die.
While the rich skate through life and don't have to try.
We all have to stop living this goverment lie.
It's about time we let that eagle fly.
Remember who made this country, it was you and I.

We the people can bring her back, and put this nation back on track.
We made her strong and that's a fact, and
Noone will ever be able to take away that.

Copyright © kelly willis | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ballad |

Time to Rise

Waking up in a cold sweat. 
Heart racing in my chest.
What will the day bring?
Can it be worse than the night?

Working all day in the summer heat.
Throat parched, needing water.
What will tomorrow be? 
Could it be worse than today?

Wolfs welcome the moon.
The air becomes crisp.
Not a sound to be heard, nor a sight to be seen. 
Now I lay my broken body to rest.
Dream, Dream, Dream.
I dream of sweet things, that will never be. 
Dream, Dream, Dream.
I would dream my life away if I could.
For it is better, and more peaceful, than any I know of now. 

Waking up in a cold sweat.
Realizing that my dream is over and its time to rise. 

Copyright © Anthony Stern | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ballad |

I'm A Plowboy (Bon Jovi's Wanted Dead or Alive)

It's all the same, only sasons change
Every May, the rain washes the crops away
In the Winter time the fields are so cold
I work my muscles to the bone
I'm a Plowboy, on a John Deer I ride
I do all I can to keep my crops alive
I'm a Plowboy
Keepin' my crops alive
Sometimes it seeds, sometimes it's the sun and its damaging rays
No more wheat, it's corn for ethonal
Sometimes it costs you, so you pay
By the harvest you complete
Haven't showered for days, now I really stink
I fertilize these crops with a loaded tank on my back
I work with little sleep, not much room for slack
The drought may be over, hopefully enough rain will fall
I've had a million crops, I've planted them all
I'm a Plowboy, on a John Deer I ride
I do all I can to keep my crops alive
I'm a Plowboy, time is not on my side
Just keepin' my crops alive
Poison Ivy gave me the hives, keepin' my crops alive
Keepin' the crops alive (4x repeated)

Copyright © Eugene Carmen | Year Posted 2008

Details | Ballad |

Hopscotch in Harlem 1948

EXCERPT (Approximately 30% of Poem)
                                  From Summertimes and Monday Mournings

Hopscotch in Harlem
Children play ten square
Jump Jump all stare

Bahhh Bahhh Black sheep
Have you any cares?
Yes Sir Yes sir
More than my share
I’ve added all my Blues up
And I have some to spare.

Hopscotch in Harlem
Feels like a HOLIDAY
Don’t touch the Hi-Fi
Cause BESSIE wants to play.

A BIRD in the band
Is worth two in the bush
Heaven’s big enough for everybody
But still folks just push

Hopscotch in Harlem
The war is almost over
Daddy lost his leg
At least he has a head on his shoulder

The Bomber won in the last round
With a swift uppercut jab
Harlem’s too far from heaven
So it’s best you take a CAB

And if you want to be on time
I guess that TRANE will work out fine
I guess that TRANE will work out fine.
                                       TENEMENT 103

“Mama why we got to live like this?
I’m sick of eatin’ beans an’ hominy grits.
Mama I’m sick of this sh-----“

“Shhhh watch yo’ mouth boy
You aint ol’ enough to fuss
I’m the only one in this house
Got a right to fuss.”

“Aint the Good Lo’d give you eyes boy
To see that yo Mama is busy?
Stop spinnin’ yo brother  around
You gonna make him DIZZIE

Harlem Sunsets
Children dreaming
Voiceless vignettes
       Harlems last gleaming
Broad stripes
And dim stars
Tears constantly streaming

The long hours of despair
Dreams dissolving in air
Gave proof through the night
That our Blues were still there

After all that dying
Those Blues were still there.

                                   HOPSCOTCH IN HARLEM

One two
Yo’ Daddy loves you
Three Four 
Mama loves you more

Five six
How’d you get in this fix
Even the Good Lord
Can’t clean up yo sh*%$
And when you’re behind
Is a good time to quit

Square number seven
Just getting started
Yo Mama went to heaven
Sad and broken hearted

Cussin’ an fussin’
Glad that she departed

Jump jump
Advance to number eight
Yo Daddy knockin’ on heaven’s gates
They wont let him in
Because he got there late
"I tol you they do ‘scriminate."

Yo’ Mama died from drinkin’ whiskey and wine
Go back two squares cause you stepped on the line

If you make it to square number nine
Than you’re really doing good

Jump Jump

God bless those who make it to ten
So lucky are them
This is how THEY play
Hopscotch in Harlem

                                                    M Ellis    Pulitzer Eyes

Copyright © Michael Ellis | Year Posted 2009

Details | Ballad |


Aye 'ee is fierce and hale.
Four mile to work,across the vale;
No slommakin' slattern 'ee,
Okkard as an itching flea.

Eee'd fetch hosses to boss's yard,
Garmed with mud,as thick as lard,
Cla'holt of 'em wiv a rope,
On is own,allus could cope.

Niver sees 'im vexed,or aggled,
Even if drenched and bedraggled;
In lightning 'e wore niver frit,
Though the whole sky wore fork-lit.

Grew peas that kidded well,
Allus 'ad a tale to tell.

Dialect from around Aylesbury Vale ,England in 1940's

Listen to me read this in this dialect on youtube under my pen name ichthyschiro

Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2007