The Seismic Men
In come the men with their unshaven faces
And their boots all covered in mud.
They’ve toiled long and hard in many places
In conditions that no human being really should.
Their feet, as they blister; their lips as they crack
When working in cold, wind and wet,
And they ache in their knees and they ache in their backs
But nothing has broken them yet.
They dream about money; they dream about home
Just to keep all the hardship at bay.
Their faces alight when they look with delight
As their hard work turns into pay.
But oh! At what cost? Do these men know their loss
As they struggle to do it or die?
For their children are growing, no smiles from the wife
As time relentlessly flies.
Without even knowing, their faces are showing
The worry, the strain and the years.
At the end of the day, what’s left to say
To a bottle of beer but shed tears.
