Worker'S Song - Dropkick Murphys

yeh, this one's for the workers who toil night and day, by hand and by brain to earn your pay, who for centuries long past for no more than your bread, 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, and with sliderule and stopwatch our pride they have robbed, we're the first ones to starve, we're the first ones to die, the first ones in line for that pie-in-the-sky, and we're always the last when the cream is shared out, for the worker is working when the fat cat's about, and 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, though we've never owned one lousy handful of earth?, 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