Henry Wiebe .com

Who's That Laughin'?

Henry Wiebe Dec. 2001

Work when you’re young
Work when you’re old
Work when it’s hot
Work when it’s cold

Work till you’re pickled
Work till you’re gray
Work in the night
Work in the day

Work till you’re black
Work till you’re blue
Work until work
Is all you can do.

Work regular hours
Then work overtime
Work for a nickel
Work for a dime

Work till you’re achin’
Till your back’s breakin’
Work till your complexion
Is murky and pale
Work till you’re stiff
And your health’s gonna fail.

Work on the Sabbath and 6 days plus
Why should you rest
You onery old cuss
If the work ain’t done
They might blame us

Work till your gloves
Are riddled with holes
Work till you’re walkin’
On shoes with half soles

Work till you’re calloused
And your knees won’t bend
Work from the start
And work to the end

Work in the city
Work on the farm
The old folk are sayin’
That work does no harm

Work till your eyes are itchin’ and red
Work till your hair
Has fell out and fled
And the sun is beatin’
On your bare bald head

Work till sweat is drippin’ down low
The harder the work
The faster the flow

Work till your vim and vinegar’s gone
Work till the nurse
Calls on the phone
And says you got cancer
Of skin and bone
Workin’ creates good muscle tone
So work till your blisters are really full blown

There’s work a plenty
No use quittin’
No use restin’
No use a sittin’
What will they think
If they find you asleep
When work’s piled higher than a big baker’s heap
With no one to do it
But you and me and a black cupacoffee
And cold cupatea.

Work for a house
And work for a car
Work where you ain’t
And work where you are
Work is near
And work is far
My record for workin’
I ain’t gonna mar

Grandpa’s work was sun to sun
Grandma’s work was never done
Early for breakfast
To feed the crew
Till late at night
She had plenty to do.

Mama took to the same hasty speed
For the things we had and the things we need
Early up to sow the seed
Then work after dark
Till your fingers bleed
But daddy was different
He took time off
To eat some lunch then smoke and cough.

Work till you’re fat
Work till you’re thin
Work till you’re bony
Stretched over with skin

Work till all the neighbors say, “Wow”
Work for the boss
By the sweat of your brow
Work like a horse
Work like a cow
You’re almost tired
So don’t stop now.

Work like a crank
Goin’ round and roun’
Work like a pump
Going up and down
When sumpun is done
Then do it all over.

Some day you can rest
While you lie ‘neath the clover
The daisy’s can rest
The roses can, too.
But remember your work
Is never quite through.

So forget the Sabbath
God said to remember
And work from October
Clear through September

Work while you’re movin’
Work when you park
Work while it’s light
Work when it’s dark
Till geese can’t fly
And the dogs don’t bark

Work till you’re deaf
Work till you’re dumb
When a beggar comes by
Give work to the bum
When he works like yourself
Give the beggar a crumb.

Work like Casey
And work like Joe
Work like crazy
And don’t go slow
They’ll say you’re lazy
And you want them to know
You’re proud of your work
Just as proud as a crow.

Harder, faster and louder
Than any on your blocks
Then you can be prouder
Than the proudest peacocks

Then you can boast
You worked off your socks
You’ve been told how often
Opportunity knocks
So take advantage of work while you can
Take off your shirt – shovel like a man.

Work so the kids can go to school
And learn everything
But the golden rule
What did God say
Concerning the fool
He says, “There’s no God”
And they think that’s cool.
Could it be it’s become satan’s tool?

In a child’s life
They miss a good start
When Mom and Dad’s missing
By work torn apart
The children are left with a fine young miss
Or with some stranger
Or maybe with sis.

Then later in life when things gone awry
They worry and fret
And wonder why
Their boys and girls don’t believe
So now they pray and often grieve

Work has robbed them
Of God’s rest
Still they wonder
Why they’re not blest.

Who’s that a laughin’
Far off from the crowd
Is that the one to whom adam bowed?
It’s that serpent who’s laughin’
And laughin’ real loud.

Just look at me, how clever I am
I fooled ‘em once
And then fooled again
I told ‘em to work on God’s Holy day
They did what I said.
I got it my way.

Then after the cross
When he rose from the dead
I told ‘em again the same thing I said
I told ‘em to forget God’s fourth command
They fell right in line
Like ducks on a stand
And I had no power
Just lies in my hand.

They’d rather trust me
And reject God’s word
Than have to rest
And maybe get bored.

They don’t believe the promise God made
That one in every seventh day
They could relax and rest in his shade.

They really don’t trust their God to supply
Although they claim that he can’t lie
So they labor for me to fill their purse
They’re under my spell they’re under my curse.

Yes, I fooled ‘em after they
Crossed the Red Sea
And I fooled ‘em again after Calvary.
They thought the Sabbath
Was nailed to the cross
And now they could work
And not suffer loss.

They really don’t want
To rest like he said.
They’ll work till they’re silent
They’ll work till they’re dead.
Some may work for eternity
It seems they’re trying
Real hard to please me.

As for me I tremble
When I read God’s Word
But they’re not afraid
‘cause they’ve been allured
Like most workaholics
They can’t be cured.

Yes, I tremble because of
What happened to me
Just like adam when he
Ate from the tree
I was driven out of
My fair estate.

So proud of my work
If I just hadn’t been
But in my pride
I thought I could win
Through my own industry
That was my sin.

Now I understand
And I understand well
Why my own proud works
Have doomed me to hell.
This is the depth to which adam fell.

And now the whole race
Is under my spell
They boast of tomorrow
They buy and they sell

We’ll get great gain
We’ll do quite well.
Boy, am I glad for what God said
By the sweat of your brow
You’ll eat your bread.

And they’re still laboring under that curse
To satisfy their belly
And fill their purse.

They’re not laboring to enter God’s rest
They must think it’s written in jest
While they work on the Sabbath
And don’t stop to pray
They make my work easy
They sure make my day.

Now ain’t I sleezy
Ain’t I slick
I’ll work ‘em to death
At least till they’re sick.

Little do they realize
That breaking God’s laws
Is death in disguise
Their coveteous greed
Has blinded their eyes.
They make my work easy
I just tell ‘em lies.

The End