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 [bad word] and stopwatch our pride they have robbed 
 [bad word] ]</i> 
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? 
 [bad word] x3]

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