But pass old slanders by.
And cleanse your shirts of the taint of blame
Where e’er the blame may lie.
Old feuds, old sores be forgot for aye
In the hopeful Dawn of a Better Day.
Let us wipe the slate of the bitter score,
Let us turn the blotted page,
And grant that we owe our workers more
Than the dole of a “living wage.”
They give us more than their time and skill