The Name On The Marble

[Betty]

This poem was written by my Grandfather who passed away a few years ago now. Always one of my favorites after I was old enough to "get it".



THE NAME ON THE MARBLE

by Paul Harold Martin


The workman that lives in the hovel,
The boss that dwells on the hill,
The sweat and the blood on the handle,
The manicured hands in the till.


The dirt and grime of construction,
The carpeted floors in the hall,
The flirting with death and detruction,
The driving, hitting the ball.


The names on buildings in cities,
The nameless who died on the job,
The rich, the minks and the kitties,
The banquet, corn on the cob.


The paycheck on Friday--existence,
The corporate bonds in the vault,
The union, the strike, the resistance,
The placing of blame and the fault.


The exam, the query, inspection,
The son-in-law wanting the job,
The waiting, the hope, the rejection,
The appointment, the relative, slob.


The saving of pennies in vases,
The banknotes agleam in the bar,
The worn-out shoes and their laces
The worship of golf and of par.


The limosine parked at the races,
The clunker driven to work,
The feasting on pheasant, the graces,
The luxury, coffee to perk.


The sables worn to the masses,
The ginghams worn to the same,
The distinction between the classes,
The "Hallowed Be Thy Name."


The love of a buddy while working,
The fear of the guy from below,
The risk of death always lurking,
The pain of the greeting "hello".


The violent death on the rigging,
The demise of the lush on the bed,
The sound of the sextons digging,
The laugh in the schemer's head.


The expensive coffin--bread leaven,
The pine box priced to sell,
The expensive journey to heaven?
The cut-rate journey to hell?