| They worked through wind and rain
|
| To keep the roof above our heads
|
| Humbled time and time again
|
| What could they do?
|
| They crawled across your floors
|
| To keep and clean your houses
|
| Broken wounds and open sores
|
| What could they do?
|
| A little respect would have helped them through
|
| We are our father’s dreams
|
| We are our mother’s pride and joy
|
| And we will be the ones
|
| To tell you now that it’s over
|
| You have no hold on us
|
| Like the fear you laid on them
|
| We are the seeds they grew
|
| It’s we that you must answer to
|
| Occasion in the village hall
|
| She speaks with rank and roses
|
| So high above them all
|
| What could they do?
|
| He struts with dog and gun
|
| They scramble through a heather hell
|
| Beat the ground until they run
|
| What could they do?
|
| A little respect would have helped them through
|
| We are our father’s dreams
|
| We are our mother’s pride and joy
|
| And we will be the ones
|
| To tell you now that it’s over
|
| You have no hold on us
|
| Like the fear you laid on them
|
| We are the seeds they grew
|
| It’s we that you must answer to |