Oh, here's to the workers who work with a will,
Today and tomorrow who never are still;
Who keep pegging on though the scoffers deride,
Who smile through the tears they endeavor to hide,
The salt of the earth are such people as they,
For the work that they do will not die in a day.
Today they are working and as we pass by,
We give scarcely thought enough to ask why,
While jealous betrayers, malign and traduce
And shout from the housetops: "Twill be of no use;"
But oh! on tomorrow when reason is clear
The thoughts we now spurn will be sacred and dear.
The gossips delight to quote somebody's word,
Somebody said it so somebody heard;
But when you hunt for the facts 'twill be found
It s the wish of the fellow that peddles it round.
Vain silly gossipers, why do you sow
Thistles and thorns where the roses would grow?
Oh where is the grave of the gossip today,
The backbiting gossip who friends did betray,
Whose heart was all malice, who lived but to jeer,
Will some one please point out his monument here?
Oh gossip and jeerer few tears o'er thy clay,
Will ever be shed when we lay thee away,
Oh children of men be ye broadgauged and pure,
Learn to pity the weak and their frailties endure.
Let your love for your brothers, who dwell here below,
Grow stronger and deeper as onward you go.
And from hearts that feel your sympathy here,
The sweet flowers of friendship and love will appear.
