Labour! (A Ballad For Artisans) Poem by Martin Farquhar Tupper

Fair work for fair wages! -- it's all that we ask,
An Englishman loves what is fair,
We'll never complain of the toil or the task,
If livelihood comes with the care;
Fair work for fair wages! -- we hope nothing else
Of the mill, or the forge, or the soil,
For the rich man who buys, and the poor man who sells,
Must pay and be paid for his toil!

Fair work for fair wages! -- we know that the claim
Is just between master and man;
If the tables were turn'd we would serve him the same,
And promise we will when we can!
We give to him industry, muscle, and thew,
And heartily work for his wealth;
So he will as honestly give what is due,
Fair wages for labour in health!

Enough for the day and a bit to put by
Against illness, and slackness, and age;
For change and misfortune are ever too nigh
Alike to the fool and the sage;
But the fool in his harvest will wanton and waste,
Forgetting the winter once more,
While true British wisdom will timely make haste
And save for the 'basket and store!'

Ay; wantonness freezes to want, be assured,
And drinking makes nothing to eat,
And penury's wasting by waste is secured,
And luxury starves in the street!
And many a father with little ones pale,
So rack'd by his cares and his pains,
Might now be all right if, when hearty and hale,
He never had squander'd his gains!

We know that prosperity's glittering sun
Can shine but a little, and then
The harvest is over, the summer is done,
Alike for the master and men:
If the factory ship with its Captain on board
Must beat in adversity's waves,
One lot is for all! for the great cotton lord
And the poorest of Commerce's slaves;

One lot! if extravagance reign'd in the home,
Then poverty's wormwood and gall;
If rational foresight of evils to come,
A cheerful complacence in all:
For sweet is the morsel that diligence earn'd,
And sweeter, that prudence put by;
And lessons of peace in affliction are learn'd,
And wisdom that comes from on high!

For God, in His providence ruling above,
And piloting all things below,
Is ever unchangeable justice and love,
In ordering welfare or woe;
He blesses the prudent for heaven and earth,
And gladdens the good at all times,--
But frowns on the sinner, and darkens his mirth,
And lashes his follies and crimes!

Alas! for the babes, and the poor pallid wife
Hurl'd down with the sot to despair,--
Yet,-- God shall reward in a happier life
Their punishment, patience, and pray'r!
But woe to the caitiff, who, starved by his drinks,
Was starving his children as well,--
O man, break away from the treacherous links
Of a chain that will drag you to Hell!

Come along, come along, man! it's never too late,
Though drowning, we throw you a rope!
Be quick and be quit of so fearful a fate,
For while there is life there is hope!
So wisely come with us, and work like the rest,
And save of your pay while you can;
And Heaven will bless you for doing your best,
And helping yourself like a man!

For Labour is money, and Labour is health,
And Labour is duty on earth;
And never was honour, or wisdom, or wealth,
But Labour has been at its birth!
The rich,-- in his father, his friend, or himself,
By head or by hand must have toil'd,
And the brow, that is canopied over with pelf,
By Labour's own sweat has been soil'd!