Without Our Labour, Nothing.

Time for a wee poem.

We The Labouring Mass

We the people have, every brick laid,

have fed the world with sweat and spade,

every instrument played in every band

created by the skill of the craftsman's hand.

We made every truck and every load,

our toil our effort every winding road,

every ship that ever sailed the sea,

our power our imagination made it be.

Cities and towns large and small,

our labouring hands fashioned them all,

every home, every spire,

luxury mansion or humble byre.

No matter what dreams the mind might spawn

without labour's hand they'll never see the dawn,

without labour's strength and labour's skill,

we would be foraging beasts in a jungle still.

Visit ann arky's home at www.radicalglasgow.me.uk