Harmony?

Harmony?

I am working with the feeling
That the company is stealing
Fifty pennies from my pocket every day;

But for every single pennie
They will lose ten times as many
By the speed that I'm producing, I dare say.

For it makes me so disgusted
That my speed shall be adjusted
So that nevermore my brow will drip with sweat;

When they're in an awful hurry
Someone else can rush and worry
Till an increase in my wages do I get.

No malicious thoughts I harbor
For the butcher or the barber
Who get eighty cents an hour from the start.

Nearly three years I've been working
Like a fool, but now I'm shirking

When I get what's fair, I'll always do my part.

Someone else can run their races
Till I am on an equal basis
With the ones who learned the trade by mining coal.

Though I can do the work, if s funny
New men can get the money
And I cannot get the same to save my soul.

I am translating the book "The Servants of Power", this poem is from chapter 6. Written by a labor around 1920's, posted on the bulletin board where he was labored. Is it the same voice deep inside your heart too?