A Jobless Recovery
Recovery, recovery, they say the worst is done,
In world affairs we’ve worked our will, the wars we fought we’ve won.
Stock markets all have surged ahead and bond rates still are low,
The dollar has recouped its strength, inflation’s growth is slow.
But poor me! me! me!
I sit at home and sob.
With all this good news coming out
I still can’t find a job.
Recovery, recovery, I cheer this rising tide,
Strong numbers fill the papers and I’m sure they’re bonafide.
Productivity is soaring, useless fat has burned away,
And those fears ‘bout corp’rate profits are receding day by day.
Investors now are happy,
Once more they cut the deck.
But what of those long unemployed
Without a weekly check?
In answer to my questions I am deluged with new stats,
Each more upbeat than the last one, almost none with caveats.
Recession now is well behind, ‘bout that we’re all agreed,
From doubts that experts once proclaimed, we’ve now been fin’ly freed.
Exalt ye wise economists!
It must be just a quirk.
Your numbers prove that times are good,
But I can't find no work.
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