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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=580310" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To the hero of toil</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=580310" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Another days labour for the man at the front<br>another days work of sweat and of grunt<br>of straining of muscle of tendon and joint<br>no praise for the hero of toil </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=580310" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Head down and end up as he reshapes the earth<br>for the rich and the mighty he'll give all he's worth<br>with the spade and the hammer he was handed at birth<br>no praise for the hero of toil </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=580310" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">In the darkest of climates he'll give it his last<br>he wont mumble or groan, he's just one of his class<br>with the spit on his hands he'll get on with the task<br>no praise for the hero of toil </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=580310" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Where would we be if it weren't for him<br>our lives would be dull and our futures be dim<br>yet he still carries on while the rich sip their gin<br>no praise for the hero of toil.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Charles+M.+Moore">Charles M. Moore</a></strong></div>

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