The Working Class
hard calloused old hands,
back bent with time and work.
feet beaten and worn,
old tired eyes that still twinkle.
i love the working class.
am more at home
with truckers, farmers,
and factory workers,
than politicians and priests.
the lives built brick by brick,
silent years of sacrifice.
hard lines of faith and worry,
and moments of gentle caring.
the hand extended,
the heart that's honest.
the love of passion,
and blowing off steam.
the cook pot, and the table,
set for whoever walks through the door.
neighbor standing behind neighbor,
the saturday night fire,
and the sunday prayer.
i love the working class...
the people that built your cities,
paved your roads,
that have grown your food,
and made your goods...
so what the hell are you doing to us?
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Work To Do!
i came from a generation
that worked.... was born to
work, daylight to dawn,
for everything we had.
we grew our own food, we
cut firewood, we worked
with our hands.
we were taught to work...
we built houses, bridges,
paved roads... worked on
farms, worked in sawmills,
worked in factories...
whatever it took for food
and shelter...
and if a neighbor got hurt,
or sick, and couldnt work...
we helped him and his family
till he could.
those of us left who can work
are still working, a lot of us are
out of work, and cant find work!
and so the world has changed...
it seems like a lot of people
spend more time avoiding work
than working... a lot of people
look for the easy way out...are
dependent on society...
still a lot of good and willing people
just need help.
they call this progress...based
on technology, and looking out for
number one. seperated, almost islands...
greed has taken the place of the bent back!
so when it all falls apart, and that will
be soon, what happens? who knows how
to survive? who has the backbone?
things to think about, and yes...
work to do!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Working Class Hero
(alan jackson/don sampson)
A callused right hand
Holds a shiny gold watch
For thirty years spent on the clock
But you wont see no tears
>from this workin class hero
Hes always been hard as a rock
But he knows hes too old
To really start over
Besides he just wouldnt know how
I guess hes just glad
That hes not alone
But hes got to wonder what now
cause theres no hall of fame for that working class hero
No statute carved out of stone
And his greatest reward is the love of a woman
And his children
So after hes gone
That old working class hero lives on
That three-bedroom house
He built in the 50s
Seems so much bigger today
With just him and mama
And not many bills
cause all of the kids moved away
What hes done with his life
Might not be remembered
But hes got every right to be proud
cause the blood sweatin years
Of this workin class hero
Is really what livins about
cause theres no hall of fame for that working class hero
No statute carved out of stone
And his greatest reward is the love of a woman
And his children
So after hes gone
That old workin class hero lives on
Yes, that workin class hero lives on
That workin class hero lives on
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wild Sex
I work so hard trying to make a few buck
I pass the hours in a dream
The sweat keeps rolling off the tip of my nose
There's only one thing keeps me on my feet
Bridge
I may be greasing the wheels in a noisy factory
I may be hunched over metal machines
Watching the gears as they move
Just reminds me
Of bodies in motion
The sweat and the sound
Chorus
Wild sex in the working class
After five it's a gas
Wild sex in the working class
Counting minutes gonna get home fast
Thinking of your warm skin
While i touch cold steel
The days go by to the pounding beat
My back is aching so bad
But i'm grinning inside
Thinking of you keeps me on my feet
Bridge
Chorus
I work so hard i'm thinking of you
I work so hard but i'm thinking of you
I work so hard
Chorus
song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wild Sex (In The Working Class)
I work so hard trying to make a few buck
I pass the hours in a dream
The sweat keeps rolling off the tip of my nose
Theres only one thing keeps me on my feet
Bridge
I may be greasing the wheels in a noisy factory
I may be hunched over metal machines
Watching the gears as they move
Just reminds me
Of bodies in motion
The sweat and the sound
Chorus
Wild sex in the working class
After five its a gas
Wild sex in the working class
Counting minutes gonna get home fast
Thinking of your warm skin
While I touch cold steel
The days go by to the pounding beat
My back is aching so bad
But Im grinning inside
Thinking of you keeps me on my feet
Bridge
Chorus
I work so hard Im thinking of you
I work so hard but Im thinking of you
I work so hard
Chorus
song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Vacant Eyes
standing in line
for a cup of soup,
second hand coats,
and worn out shoes.
the hands that
built your houses,
paved your roads,
worked your steel mills...
harvested your crops,
worked on your cars,
built your cities and towns,
your stores and your churches.
tremble with the cold,
hold the steaming cup
like a prayer...
wipe the corners of vacant eyes!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Everything Is Kiling Me....
As soon as you're born they make you feel small
By giving you no time instead of it all
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
They hurt you at home and they hit you at school
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool
Till you're so fucking crazy you can't follow their rules
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
When they've tortured and scared you for twenty odd years
Then they expect you to pick a career
When you can't really function you're so full of fear
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV
And you think you're so clever and classless and free
But you're still fucking peasants as far as I can see
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
There's room at the top they are telling you still
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill
If you want to be like the folks on the hill
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
If you want to be a hero well just follow me
If you want to be a hero well just follow me
poem by Adnan Zahedi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Luxurious
Working so hard, every night and day
And now we get the pay back
Trying so hard, saving up the paper
Now we get to lay back
Working so hard, every night and day
And now we get the pay back, the pay back, the pay back
Champagne kisses, hold me in your lap of luxury
I only want to fly first-class desires, you're my limousine
So elegant, the way we ride, our passion, it just multiplies
There's platinum lightning in the sky
Look I'm livin' like a queen
This kind of love is getting expensive
We know how to live, baby
We're luxurious, like Egyptian cotton
We're so rich in love, we're rollin' in cashmere
Got it in fifth gear, baby
Diamond in the rough is lookin' so sparkly
Working so hard, every night and day
And now we get the pay back
Trying so hard, saving up the paper
Now we get to lay back
Working so hard, every night and day
And now we get the pay back, the pay back, the pay back
Sugar, honey, sexy baby
When we touch it turns to gold
Sensitive and delicate, kinda like a tuberose
You know you are my treasure chest
It's pure perfection when we kiss and
You're my Mr., I'm your Miss
Gonna be until we're old
This kind of love is getting expensive
We know how to live, baby
We're luxurious, like Egyptian cotton
Working so hard, every night and day
And now we get the pay back
Trying so hard, saving up the paper
Now we get to lay back
Working so hard, every night and day
And now we get the pay back, the pay back, the pay back
[2x]
Cha-ching, cha-ching, we're loaded and we're not gonna blow it
Cha-ching, cha-ching, we're hooked up with the love cause we grow it
Cha-ching, cha-ching, we got hydroponic love and we're smokin'
Cha-ching, cha-ching, we burn it, you and I, we are so lit
And we're so rich in love, we're rollin' in cashmere
Got it in fifth gear, baby
Diamond in the rough is lookin' so sparkly
Working so hard, every night and day
And now we get the pay back
Trying so hard, saving up the paper
Now we get to lay back
Working so hard, every night and day
And now we get the pay back, the pay back, the pay back
song performed by by Gwen Stefani
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Working Class Hero
As soon as you're born they make you feel small,
By giving you no time instead of it all,
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
They hurt you at home and they hit you at school,
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool,
Till you're so f***ing crazy you can't follow their rules.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
When they've tortured and scared you for twenty odd years,
Then they expect you to pick a career,
When you can't really function you're so full of fear.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV,
And you think you're so clever and classless and free,
But you're still f***ing peasants as far as I can see.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
There's room at the top they are telling you still,
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill,
If you want to be like the folks on the hill.
A working class hero is something to be.
A working class hero is something to be.
If you want to be a hero well just follow me,
If you want to be a hero well just follow me.
song, music by John Lennon, lyrics by John Lennon from John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band (11 December 1970)
Submitted by anonym
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They Came From Distant Places
They came from distant places to this far southern shore
The men who built the city at rest forever more
Some of them could not speak the language but they were strong and young
And they were willing workers and their praises ought be sung
The men who built the city their grandchildren old today
They worked hard to support their wives and families from their old homeland far away
They built the factories, homes and railways and they worked hard for their pay
The men who built the city for years with Nature lay
No monument built to them no last post for them played
For the men who built the city there was never a parade
Only their direct descendants would have heard of them by name
To be honest and hard working is never a claim to fame
The men who built the city their praises remain unsung
And today their grandchildren are not what one would call young.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Tower That Ate People
There's a bump in the basement
There's a knocking on the wall
In the pumping of the pistons
I swear I heard you call
There's a bump in the basement
There's a hole in the floor
There's a guard in the garden
Locking up the door
There's a rumble in the floorboards
No shutting out the sound
And the workers down below me
Digging underground
Feel the building all around me
Like a wrap of armoured skin
But the more we are protected
The more we're trapped within
Tell it like it is
Till there's no misunderstanding
When you strip it right back
Man feed machine
Machine feed man
Tell it like it is
Till there's no misunderstanding
You make up what you like
Man feed machine
Machine feed man
?
Brick by brick by brick by brick we're building
Brick by brick by brick by brick we're building
Brick by brick by brick by brick we're building
Brick by brick by brick by brick we're building
Brick by brick by brick by brick we're building
Brick by brick by brick by brick we're building
song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Loose Change
I built a house of cards
Built a house of rain
Built a house of love
Its hard to build again
Built a road to reason
Built a road to fate
Built a road to the promised land
Right up to the gate
Loose change in my pocket
Future in my hand
Too many distractions
For me to understand
Too many distractions
Got to get back home
Get into something solid
Get out of the zone
Some roads bring renewal
Some roads hide and wait
Some roads promise everything
And steal your fuel away
Loose change in my pocket
Future in my hand
Too many distractions
For me to understand
Some roads I been flyin
Some roads I crashed
Some roads I been sleepin on
Some roads I got back
Some roads I been runnin
Some roads I was stopped
Some roads I been walkin down
Some roads I was lost
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Living Wage!
a living wage....
seems like not so much
to ask... after 40 years
of
...working
.....daylight
.........to
...........dusk....
feeding someone elses dream...
America the great,
...America the fallen,
can
...you
.....not hear?
can
...you
.....not
.......feel?
the men and women
that built your highways,
your cities and towns...
worked your mills,
your factories, your farms,
are crying out!
we have to eat too!
we need shelter!
we need hope!
honest hard working people...
is this
...how you
......pay us back?
do you remember our names?
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Worn
Working too hard
Keep myself thin
Wearing the scars
Of where I haven't been
Yearns, yearns
Yearns, yearns
Working so hard
Grown this far
Clutching the charts
I've always torn apart
Nations worn down
They're just fooling around
Threating your world
Released in my ground
I'm up against an old brick wall
I've tucked my nails in
Hanging to the same old sore
Here is where I know I've been
All alone
Towards the end
Raise myself again
All alone
I'm killing this soul
Convince myself again
Covered in sin
Carrying the stones
Cease fire, fire, fire, fire
Killing these lies
Killing these lies
Killing these lies
Killing these lies
All alone
Towards the end
Raise myself again
All alone
I'm killing this soul
Convince myself again
Working so hard
I'm innocent
I'm wearing the scars
Of what I haven't been
I'm up against an old brick wall
I've tucked my nails in
Hanging to the same old sore
Here is where I know I've been
All alone
Towards the end
Raise myself again
All alone
I'm killing this soul
Convince myself again
I'm telling this for
All my friends
Tell it like it is
song performed by by Ultraspank
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Admiration... For Those Who Work!
i have a deep admiration
for the common working people
of the world...
having lived among them,
worked and sweated with them,
i sing their struggle!
farmers toiling day and night,
nurses pulling double shifts.
factory workers doing time and again,
carpenters and masons building.
black and white and all colors,
working their lives by faith.
and immigrants, often called illegal,
(though no human beings are illegal!) ...
who come here and work for whatever wage,
trying to build a dream for their families.
let us not forget women,
too often underpaid and treated as less...
truckdrivers, and those who work the docks,
steel workers, cooks, and trash collectors...
all leave me in awe...
there are many who cant work,
these should always be taken care of.
but the ones that could work if they would work,
who can work, and wont...
well... i have a problem there!
i was taught to work as a child...
taught respect, dignity, and honesty...
and so i believe, and so i live...
in admiration for those who work!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hope and Light, and Love
You – whose inner strength, I always think
to be the greater than my fluctuating own –
ask, only half humorously, as
business, family support, collapses all around,
for a poem of hope and light and love…
and I fall still and silent; for to me
only stillness, silence, are my answer
to those mighty questions of what within ourselves
we have, and have not; lose and find again…
and in the stillness of the silence, because
I am of ‘certain’ yet uncertain age…
hear the family voice still sounding in the ear of memory
of that sweet Stoicism of the Victorian working class:
…‘working’ indeed; even to the work-house…
and ‘class’; yet class with pride; hope (wasn’t the Baptist chapel
built along with Hope Street?): light; and love…
that Stoicism (would they know the word?)
that folds its hands onto its tidy lap, when
all around collapses, and says quietly,
“It’s trying.. as the good Lord knows,
for he’s tried me oftentimes enough…”
and Sunday starts and ends the week,
the ‘day of rest’ when God and Man
work hardest, and together..
that sweet Stoicism… that responds
to the muted tea-cup whine of others, with
‘We must just count our blessings, dear…’
or break into the mutual relief of song:
‘Count your blessings, one by one’..
and never was the One more to be sought, whose blessings
are only counted, as sleep’s sheep leap
over the stile of thought,
counted one by one; each one blessing, blest,
containing All -
All, and as you said yourself,
Hope; Light; and Love; these three..
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Love that is lost.
Brick by brick was built our love over years;
A crack was unearthed. My heart broke away
And we were thrown apart miles away.
Yes, ‘A little less and what world away! ’
20.06.97
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Unconditionally Open
these hands,
that took yours
and walked away from all
we knew.
these hands,
that laid brick,
cut wood,
plowed gardens,
picked up trash
built fences for the dogs,
held the children
when they were small,
held your hands
at the hospital
stroked your body,
touching forbidden places
with gentleness and
passion
wrote the poetry
hidden in your eyes
these hands,
now old and calloused,
sometimes tremble,
sometimes hard as stone
these hands are open,
without fear or trepidation,
unconditionally open
waiting for yours.
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Working At The Factory
All my life I've been a workin' man
When I was at school they said that's all you'll ever understand
No profession. I didn't figure in their plans
So they sent me down factory to be a workin' man
All I lived for, All I lived for
All I lived for was to get out of the factory
Now I'm here seemingly free, but working at the factory.
The music came along and gave new life to me
And gave me hope back in 1983
The music came and set me free
From working at the factory
All I lived for, All I lived for
All I lived for was to get out of the factory
All I lived for, All I lived for
All I lived for was to get out of the factory
Never wanted to be like everybody else
But now there are so many like me sitting on the shelf
They sold us a dream but in reality
It was just another factory
I made the music , thought that was mine
It made me free , but that was in another time
But then the corporations and the big combines
Turned musicians into factory workers on assembly lines.
All I lived for, All I lived for
All I lived for was to get out of the factory
We made the music to set ourselves free
From working at the factory.
All my life I've put in a working day
Now it's sign the contract. Get production on the way
Take the money, make the music pay
Working at the factory
All I lived for was to get out of the factory.
Never wanted to be like everybody else
But now there are so many like me sitting on the shelf
They sold us a dream but in reality
Was just another factory
Working at the factory.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love Working On You
(jim collins/craig wiseman)
You woke up this morning
Changes were taking place
You looked in the mirror
A smile was all over your face
cause out of nowhere
Someone was there
Who dared to climb
Those walls you made
Its exciting, a little frightening
But girl dont you be afraid
Thats just the love working
Love working on you
Thats just the love working
Working on pulling you through
Cant even remember
All the sorrow that you left behind
Its a brand new day
Theres a bright new way
And your tears have turned into wine
You never forget
When your eyes met
Or just how clearly you could see
Where the turns are deep in your heart
That lead you to believe
Thats just the love working
Love working on you
Thats just the love working
Working on pulling you through
All of the while you felt forsaken
And all of the while
Loves been waiting, waiting
Suddenly you see how it could be
If we all only felt this way
And for a while girl you can see this world
Looking through the eyes of fate
Thats just the love working
Love working on you
Thats just the love working
Working on pulling you through
Thats just the love working
Love working on you
Thats just the love working
Working on pulling you through
Thats just the love working on you
Thats just the love working
Working on pulling you through
song performed by by John Michael Montgomery
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Money Corruption / I Am Your Man
(sung by chorus)
We are sick and tired
Of being promised this and that.
We work all day, we sweat and slave
To keep the wealthy fat.
They fill our heads with promises
And bamboozle us with facts,
Then they put on false sincerity
Then they laugh behind our backs.
1st chorus
Money and corruption
Are ruining the land
Crooked politicians
Betray the working man,
Pocketing the profits
And treating us like sheep,
And were tired of hearing promises
That we know theyll never keep.
Money and corruption
(etc. repeat 1st chorus above)
Promises, promises, all we get are promises.
Show us a man wholl understand us, guide us and lead us.
We are sick and tired
Of having to ask them cap in hand
We crawl on the floor
We beg for more,
But still we are ignored.
Were tired of being herded
Like a mindless flock of sheep
And were tired of hearing promises
That we know theyll never keep.
1st chorus
Money and corruption
Are ruining the land
Crooked politicians
Betray the working man,
Pocketing the profits
And treating us like sheep,
And were tired of hearing promises
We know theyll never keep.
Weve got to stand together
Every woman, every man,
Because money and corruption are ruining the land.
Show us a man wholl be our saviour and will lead us.
Show us a man wholl understand us, guide us and lead us.
Show us a man.
Workers of the nation unite.
Workers of the nation unite.
(mr. black sings)
I visualise a day when people will be free
And well be living in a new society.
No class distinction, no slums or poverty
I have a vision of a new society.
And every home will have a stereo and tv,
A deep freeze, quadrasonic and a washing machine.
So workers of the nation unite.
I am your man
Ill work out a five-year plan
So vote for me brothers
And I will save this land
And we will nationalise the wealthy companies
And all the directors will be answerable to me,
Therell be no shirking of responsibilities
So people of the nation unite.
Union man Ill work with you hand in hand
For were all brothers to our union man.
I am your man,
Oh God how I love this land,
So join together save the fatherland.
I visualize a day when people will be free
And well be living in a new society.
No class distinction, no slums or poverty,
So workers of the nation unite,
Workers of the nation unite,
People of the nation unite.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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