Some men work in a noisy shop
While some fellows till the soil,
Content to do the work that they like,
To garner the fruits of toil.

There are those who work in an office or store,
Some fellow their special trade.
Together they march down city streets
In the Labor Day parade.

Some men like to work alone,
Or to help someone in need.
A man who finds some joy in his work
Is a lucky man indeed.

Great work remains before us spread
From government to home,
Together we must face the task
We can’t do this alone.

Our fathers built a nation…strong;
In a lovely virgin land.
We must work to keep it wholesome,
Just as beautiful and grand.

We must work for God and country
Wiping out turmoil and strife,
And to change the kind of thinking
That pollutes our way of life.

We must work to promote culture,
And all things that’s great and good
In every town and city
And in every neighborhood.

If we work to help our brothers
God will bless us from above.
Joy…is found in helping others
For that is the labor of love.

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