The explanation behind this poem will come in the next post!
Division of Labor Sixteen taxis, waitin' in line, I don't need one, walkin's fine. They say there isn't work for all, since the economy took that fall. I say, What work is that? Compared to those Who mop the floors and iron clothes! When crises come, it takes a man to see no work where women can. Beneath your dignity, you say? Then wait in line another day!