The sun awakes,
The baby cries,
All the world is passing by—
Men all polished and prime,
Keep the women with less than dimes—
Desks, telephones, and emails galore,
Why don’t the women deserve more?
From home-makers and wives,
To new business lives,
Yet she can’t support her daughter who’s five.
Brief cases and suits rule the world,
But what about the little girl?
Working endless hours, more than her brother—
But never getting paid more than the other.
Tousled and tattered at the end of the day,
While the boss man took a day far away.
When will the girl not have to work days of twenty-seven,
To know that he won’t get the same for eleven.