The Better Job

If I were running a factory

I'd stick up a sign for all to see;

I'd print it large and I'd nail it high

On every wall that the men walked by;

And I'd have it carry this sentence clear:

“The‘ better job’ that you want is here!”

It's the common trait of the human race

To pack up and roam from place to place;

Men have done it for ages and do it now;

Seeking to better themselves somehow

They quit their posts and their tools they drop

For a better job in another shop.

It may be I'm wrong, but I hold to this —

That something surely must be amiss

When a man worth while must move away

For the better job with the better pay;

And something is false in our own renown

When men can think of a better town.

So if I were running a factory

I'd stick up this sign for all to see,

Which never an eye in the place could miss:

“There is n't a better town than this!

You need not go wandering, far or near —

The‘ better job’ that you want is here!”