Song of the Lower Classes - Windborne

Composed by：Windborne Singers/Ernest Charles Jones/Ian Robb

We plough and sow we are so low that we delve in the dirty clay

'Til we bless the plain with golden grain and the vale with the fragrant hay

Our place we know we are so low down at the landlord's feet

We're not too low the bread to grow but too low the bread to eat

We're low we're low we are so low yet from our fingers glide

Thee silken flow and the robes that glow

Round the limbs of the sons of pride

And what we get and what we give we know and we know our share

We're not too low the cloth to weave but too low the cloth to wear

Down down we go we are so low to the hell of the deep-sunk mine

But we gather the proudest gems that glow

When the crown of the despot shines

Whenever he lacks upon our backs fresh loads he deigns to lay

We're far too low to vote the tax but not too low to pay

We're low we're low as to war we go to fight some foreign country

That was yesterday our greatest friend but today's our enemy

"God bless our boys" the papers scream

"Praise them" the churchmen cry

When the war is won and home we come

Who cares if we live or die

We're low so low into boats we go to flee war in our home country

And we'll try to make a better life when we land across the sea

But it's "Send them back" the press cries out

"Back to where they came"

We're far too low to feed and clothe but not too low to blame

We are so low but soon we know that the low folk will arise

And the tyrants in their tow'rs of gold shall hear the people's cries

No more shall they hold us in thrall their lies we will not heed

But every heart shall hear the call and the people will be free