The Dead Migrant Workers Poem by Francis Duggan

They built every City, Village, Town and Motorway
And for them there never was an easy pay
And though all is quiet in the places they lay
Their descendants the Nation builders of today.

Some of them lived on for to die old and gray
Those hard working migrants from Lands far away
Though in their honour one does not see a parade
And little of their contribution to society is made.

They built the railways and car parks of the town
The people who never did yearn for renown
Their names never engraved on a memorial wall
And their deeds we don't see as worthy of recall.

We honour the soldier the royal and the sporting great
And the celebrity and politician we do celebrate
But the dead migrant worker is one without fame
And his like all of his kind is a forgotten name.