Classic Poem

A rich man in his parlor sat,
And talked about the labor — strike —
And, in his easy, careless chat,
Said: — Let them grumble, Tom and Mike:
We've got them — on the hip — ; and they
May please themselves, — or go, or stay. —

But when the panic came at last,
And all the wheels of trade stood still,
He found all life an engine vast
In which each cog its place must fill.
'Twas then he came to understand
The head was weak without the hand.