Blue-Collar Man Poem by Charles Hancock

Marching through the municipal park in the early night
A lamppost, stars, and the rising moon are my guiding light
Cognizant of the nocturnal street noises coming from town
Confident that before long, the madness will settle down

Spying young lovers under a majestic old oak tree
Lips and hands as busy as the proverbial worker bee
Autumn leaves and twigs crunch beneath me as I stroll
Making my way to my favorite local watering hole

A tall frosty mug or two tends to do me some good
More than that and I'm liable to be misunderstood
Then get my woman, go grab a burger, and off to bed
Tomorrow...back at it with the rest of the living dead

For I am what I am, a proud, blue-collar, working man
Hard at it; I pay my taxes, and also into my pension plan
All the while, our government whittles freedoms away
Long forgotten what was gained on Independence Day