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Who has cast adrift his workers, who lies sweating
in his bed,
And who snarls to hear the laughter of the man
Who keeps his head.
Let the poor man teach the rich man, for the poor
man's constant strife
Is from day to day to seek work, day by day to war
with life,
And the poor man's home hangs ever by a frail and
brittle thread,
And the poor man's often hungry, but the poor
man keeps his head.
When the ships come back from slaughter, and the
troops march home from war;
When the havoc strewn behind us threats the road
that lies before,
Every hero shall be welcomed, every orphan shall
be fed,
By the man who stuck to business, by the man who
kept his head.
