| Song: |
The Workers Song by Ed Pickford; covered by Dick
Gaughan and The Dropkick Murphys.
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Come all of you workers who toil night and
day
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By hand and by brain to earn your pay
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Who for centuries long past for no more than your
bread
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Have bled for your countries and counted your
dead
In the factories and mills, in the 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
With sliderule and stopwatch our pride they have
robbed
But when the sky darkens and the prospect is
war
Who's given a gun and then pushed to the
fore
And expected to die for the land of our
birth
When we've never owned one handful of earth?
We're the first ones to starve the first ones to
die
The first ones in line for that
pie-in-the-sky
And always the last when the cream is shared
out
For the worker is working when the fat cat's
about
All of these things the worker has done
From tilling the fields to carrying the gun
We've been yoked to the plough since time first
began
And always expected to carry the can |
