Language   

Song of My Hands

Barbara Dane
Language: English


Barbara Dane


A lover sings of his own true love,
A sailor sings of the sea,
What have I to be singing of,
But of my only property,
I'll sing you a song of my hands.

Hear the call of the midnight train,
Echoin' down in the mine,
The hiss of the steel and the grind of the crane,
The rumble of an assembly line,
That is the song of my hands.

I'll tell you why of my hands I sing,
My children eat what my hands can bring.

When towers of steel rose from barren plains,
Did you see my hands workin' there,
Amid your factories, your trucks and cranes,
We laid stone upon stone upon stone in the air,
And on top of the job were my hands.

My two hands they're my take home pay,
They're how much milk at my door,
How many pounds may my children weigh,
How did you figure the price before,
What will you pay for my hands.

My hands are for sale, what will you give,
What will you give that my children might live.

What is the value of my two hands,
Appraise them as you've done before,
They built your factories, tilled your lands,
They've made you riches and they'll make more,
What will you pay for my hands.

Calculate carefully, ponder it well,
And remember this when you do,
My two hands they are mine to sell,
They built your machines they can stop them too,
That is the power of my hands.

My two hands they are mighty hands,
They're strong, they're brave and they're free,
In all the world there's no man,
Can bind them in slavery.

My hands are for sale, what will you give,
What will you give that my children might live. ‎



Main Page

Please report any error in lyrics or commentaries to antiwarsongs@gmail.com

Note for non-Italian users: Sorry, though the interface of this website is translated into English, most commentaries and biographies are in Italian and/or in other languages like French, German, Spanish, Russian etc.




hosted by inventati.org