By Judge Thomas Wyatt, Chattanooga

A while ago, I searched the internet for songs about workers’ compensation. I found a few about work accidents, like Big John, the Wreck of the Edmond Fitzgerald, and a song professing the universal truth that the worker always loses in the battle between steel and flesh.

Recently, I broadened my search to find songs about working. As you might expect, I came across too many songs to mention in a short blog article. If you remove hymns and love songs from consideration, working may be the next most-sung-about theme. If it isn’t, it’s close.

Some of the earliest songs I remember are about working. As a very young child, I remember cartoon dwarfs happily marching to the chorus, “Heigh Ho, heigh ho, it’s off to work I go.” Another animated favorite reminded me to “whistle while you work.” Outside of songs I learned in church, I think the first full-length song I learned had these lyrics:

“I’ve been working on the railroad all the live-long day/I’ve been working on the railroad just to pass the time away/Can’t you hear the whistle blowing/rise up so early in the morn/Can’t you hear the captain shouting/Dinah blow your horn.”

Did the songs of my youth instill an attitude that predisposed me to bliss at work? Not completely. I’ve worked since age 15, in grocery stores, a clothing store, as a rent collector, and ultimately, in law offices and as a judge. I rarely recall being excited enough about going to work to sing “heigh ho, heigh ho,” but I did whistle while I worked until asked by those working around me to stop. As a lawyer, the telephone, written correspondence—which later became emails— and the deadlines became my “Dinah’s horn.” At times, I felt like I worked “all the live-long day.”

Songs about working juggle many themes, from enjoyment of work to dissatisfaction with it, and from the drudgery of working to the virtues of hard work. Not surprisingly, the lyricists who write about enjoying work describe working as a musician or band member. Dr. Hook and the Medicine Show sang about the benefits of being a rock band:

“Well, we’re big rock singers/we got golden fingers/and we’re loved everywhere we go/we sing about beauty, and we sing about truth/at $10,000 a show.”

Dire Straits approached the enjoyment of being a rock star from a blue-collar viewpoint, singing:

“Now look at those yo-yos, that’s the way you do it/you play the guitar on the MTV/that’s not working, that’s the way you do it/money for nothin’ and your chicks for free/(But) we got to install microwave ovens/custom kitchen deliveries/we got to move those refrigerators/we got to move those color TVs.”

But even being a rock star is work. While Willie Nelson idyllically sang, “I can’t wait to get on the road again/my life my love is making music with my friends.”

In contrast, Bob Seeger bemoaned life on the road, singing,

“When you’re riding sixteen hours and there’s nothing much to do/and you don’t feel much like riding, and you wish the trip was through/well, you walk into a restaurant, strung out from the road/you can feel the eyes upon you as you’re shaking off the cold/you pretend it doesn’t bother you, but you just want to explode/here I am on the road again, there I am on the stage/here I go playing star again/there I go, turn the page.”

Most songs about working consider the toil and drudgery of a lifetime of work. Tennessee’s very own icon, Dolly Parton, famously decried bad bosses: “You’re just a step on the boss-man’s ladder, But you got dreams he’ll never take away.”

Some songs address the point where you can’t take it anymore.

The national anthem of the disgruntled worker is Johnny Paycheck’s defiant song about thumbing his nose at a job he didn’t want. (Am I the only one who sees irony in a singer named Paycheck singing a song glorifying quitting his job?) Johnny sang what a lot of people feel:

“Take this job and shove it/I ain’t workin’ here no more/my woman done left and took all the reason/I was workin’ for/you better not try to stand in my way/as I’m a-walkin’ out the door/so take this job and shove it/I ain’t workin’ here no more.”

But music also appreciates the efforts of those whose work permit us to live a good standard of life. I like Aaron Tippin’s song about working men (also true about working women), in which he sings about the basic truth we too often take for granted:

“If it works, if it runs, if it lasts for years/you can bet your bottom dollar it was made right here/with pride and honor and dignity/from a man with a working man’s PhD/now there ain’t no shame in a job well done/from driving a nail to driving a truck/as a matter of fact, I’d like to set things straight/a few more people should be pulling their weight/if you want a cram course in reality/you get yourself a working man’s PhD.”

As I close this piece, I am reminded that I came from stock who more than earned their working man’s PhD. My dad, who passed away last November, worked as a meat cutter until age 80. Only a faulty aortic valve and arthritic spine ended his career. One of the few times I saw him cry was when it became clear his body could not hold up to the physical demands of his job.

So, for my dad, George Thomas Wyatt, and the countless men and women whose labors keep our world spinning on its axis, I close with the band Alabama’s tribute to working people everywhere:

“There are people in this country/who work hard every day/not for fame or fortune do they strive/but the fruits of their labor/are worth more than their pay/and its time a few of them were recognized/This is for the one who swings the hammer/driving home the nail/or the one behind the counter/ringing up the sale/or the one who fights the fire/the one who brings the mail/the one who drives the big rig/or the one out in the warehouse/or the waitress, the mechanic/the policeman on patrol/for everyone who works behind the scenes/with a spirit you can’t replace with no machine.” 

Let those of us who work mainly with our minds and make decisions critical to those who work with their bodies never forget the contributions of the working men and women in this country and those who employ them. To paraphrase Alabama’s song, Thank you, Tennessee workers. Let me thank you for your time. You work 40 hours (or more) per week to move it on down the line.