Who will tend the garden?
And who will guard the door?
Who will tell us how and when
If not the working poor
We’ll put them all in cages
We’ll stop them at the shore
We’ll round them up in stages
We’ll send them off to war
They have come from far away
From Mexico and Ecuador
Some of them would like to stay
They are the working poor
They labor in the country club
Mowing lawns at the course
They give the men a body rub
They are shopping at our stores
They work for paltry wages
At the restaurants mopping floors
They’re oppressed throughout the ages
They are the working poor
If you’d like to show them mercy
Like it was some time before
Just let them go on working
And pay them a little more
