Workers

[Bullroarer]

Screeching with the desire of greed
A noble man is a true cheat
While workers scrounge for sire to feed
Barely able to bring thier wheat

Why should the workers always live in pain
While the greediest of men live in wealth
The worker must bring the hammer and pull the chain
Working for the Nobleman's bit of health

We toil, we grind and we break the earth
While you swoon your maidens above
You judge us by what our money is worth
You never gave compassion or love

We raised the buildings and grew the crop
We raked the fields and we moved the fire
But there is always metal to melt and wood to chop
We always keep working even as we tire

Brother, can you not see below your feet
Am I not a fellow human made in the same light
Can you not see the sweating back of the heat
Or am I so far out of your roving sight

We scream and our hungry children scrap for meat
We cry with our tears deep in our soul
We cannot give them medicine, nor a simple treat
We shall suffer as time's wheel shall roll

We are your mirror image in the glass
We are your own brothers and creed
The only difference in our working class
You care not for what we need