A Jobless Recovery Lament
(In the style of Walt Whitman's
"O Captain! My Captain!")
Recovery, recovery, they say at last you've come,
The government, its test has met, it fought this war and won.
Stock markets all have surged ahead and bond rates still are low,
The dollar still retains some 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,
All those fears ‘bout corp’rate profits are receding day by day.
Investors now are happy,
Once more they cut the deck.
But what of us long unemployed
Without our weekly check?
In answer to my questions I am deluged with new stats,
Each seemingly so upbeat, almost none with caveats.
Recession now is well behind, ‘bout that the pros agree,
From doubts these experts once proclaimed, we've now been shaken free.
Exalt ye wise economists!
It must be just a quirk.
Your numbers prove that times are good,
So why can't I find work?
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