We're the first ones to starve

The first ones to die

The first ones in line

For that pie-in-the-sky

And always the last

When the cream is shared out

For the worker is working

When the fat cat's about

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