Shovels Up, Wo/men (Propaganda For Digging)

Shovels up, wo/men,
bend your heads to the rain,
the muddy ground and liquid air
breathe life to you again.

Hack the ruddy soil
and bend your backs to the wind;
your shovel is your saving grace,
your trouble, and your friend.

There’s never rest for the weary
or the prisoners of the rod,
so through a life of work and faith
we dig the words of god.

The words that have no meaning
take root in soil and clay,
and so we dig our ditches,
to throw these words away.

But is there rest for the weary?
Who will take my place
when I am weak and teary
with dirty hands and face?

Shovels down, wo/men,
the time to strike has come.
And who will dig our ditches
When wo/men’s work is done?

Hands up, wo/men,
raise your palms to the sun,
let your troubles fall away
the evening has begun.


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