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Our workers are our saviors
The redeemers of every race.
From those who built the pyramids
To the rockets for outer space.
With our fingers weary and worn
And our eyelids heavy and red,
We feel we've earned God's blessings
As we lay down our sleepy head.
After death there’ll be lots of rest
Though the living must suffer toil
For every thing that man must have,
Comes from the air, the sea and soil.
'Yes' labor is part of life on earth
For without it we make no gains.
By work we receive life's rewards
As fortunes are made by our pains.
Tom Zart
Tom Zart
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