Workers Song
This one's for the workers who toil night and day
By hands and by bain to earn your pay
For centuries long past for no more than your bread
Have bled for your contries and counted your dead
In the factories and mills, and shipyards and mines
we've often been told to keep up with the times
For our skills are not needed, they've streamlined the job
And with slide rule and stopwatch, our pride they have robbed
(chorus)
We're the first onees to starve, we're the first ones to die
The first ones in line for that pie in the sky
And we're always the last when the cream is shared out
For the worker is working when the fat cat's about
And when the sky darkness and the prospect is war
Who's given the gun and then pushed to the fore
And expected to die for the land of our birth
Though we've never owned one lousy handful of earth
And all of these things the worker has done
From tilling the fields to carring the gun
We've been yoked to the plow since time first began
And always expected to carry the can
