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Sport must be accessible to working class youth.

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John Lennon

Working Class Hero

As soon as you're born they make you feel small,
By giving you no time instead of it all,
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.

They hurt you at home and they hit you at school,
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool,
Till you're so f***ing crazy you can't follow their rules.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.

When they've tortured and scared you for twenty odd years,
Then they expect you to pick a career,
When you can't really function you're so full of fear.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.

Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV,
And you think you're so clever and classless and free,
But you're still f***ing peasants as far as I can see.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.

There's room at the top they are telling you still,
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill,
If you want to be like the folks on the hill.
A working class hero is something to be.
A working class hero is something to be.

If you want to be a hero well just follow me,
If you want to be a hero well just follow me.

song, music by John Lennon, lyrics by from John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band (11 December 1970)Report problemRelated quotes
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Wild Sex (In The Working Class)

I work so hard trying to make a few buck
I pass the hours in a dream
The sweat keeps rolling off the tip of my nose
Theres only one thing keeps me on my feet
Bridge
I may be greasing the wheels in a noisy factory
I may be hunched over metal machines
Watching the gears as they move
Just reminds me
Of bodies in motion
The sweat and the sound
Chorus
Wild sex in the working class
After five its a gas
Wild sex in the working class
Counting minutes gonna get home fast
Thinking of your warm skin
While I touch cold steel
The days go by to the pounding beat
My back is aching so bad
But Im grinning inside
Thinking of you keeps me on my feet
Bridge
Chorus
I work so hard Im thinking of you
I work so hard but Im thinking of you
I work so hard
Chorus

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Working Class Soldier

Working class Soldier.

Don’t blame the TV it is what you want, so smile to the camera;
whatever you do don’t show a picture of a mutilated alien soldier,
tomorrow we will win this war and you’ll be remembered as never
before. I wonder if the working class, one day will wake up and say:
”Why should we do all the dying? Ah, my man, problem is you like
fighting it is the only thing that gives gist to your boring life beats
clocking in at seven every morning; fight on friends our leader are
very good at doing military funerals, make you a hero for the day,
you will miss hearing all the blooming words and your wife will
be poor before the flowers have wizened and a hearse rolls down
the lane driving another soldier hero to his grave.

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The Working Class

hard calloused old hands,
back bent with time and work.
feet beaten and worn,
old tired eyes that still twinkle.

i love the working class.
am more at home
with truckers, farmers,
and factory workers,
than politicians and priests.

the lives built brick by brick,
silent years of sacrifice.
hard lines of faith and worry,
and moments of gentle caring.

the hand extended,
the heart that's honest.
the love of passion,
and blowing off steam.

the cook pot, and the table,
set for whoever walks through the door.
neighbor standing behind neighbor,
the saturday night fire,
and the sunday prayer.

i love the working class...
the people that built your cities,
paved your roads,
that have grown your food,
and made your goods...

so what the hell are you doing to us?

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Working Class Hero

(alan jackson/don sampson)
A callused right hand
Holds a shiny gold watch
For thirty years spent on the clock
But you wont see no tears
>from this workin class hero
Hes always been hard as a rock
But he knows hes too old
To really start over
Besides he just wouldnt know how
I guess hes just glad
That hes not alone
But hes got to wonder what now
cause theres no hall of fame for that working class hero
No statute carved out of stone
And his greatest reward is the love of a woman
And his children
So after hes gone
That old working class hero lives on
That three-bedroom house
He built in the 50s
Seems so much bigger today
With just him and mama
And not many bills
cause all of the kids moved away
What hes done with his life
Might not be remembered
But hes got every right to be proud
cause the blood sweatin years
Of this workin class hero
Is really what livins about
cause theres no hall of fame for that working class hero
No statute carved out of stone
And his greatest reward is the love of a woman
And his children
So after hes gone
That old workin class hero lives on
Yes, that workin class hero lives on
That workin class hero lives on

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Working Class - Zindabad

WORKING CLASS - ZINDABAD

She is a working lady, plus-two passed,
not a white-collar post, nor a BPO
or of fatty pay in a public sector
no well-laid, centrally cooled posh outfit
canteens to refresh or free-bees to count upon
no unions to protect -
or the day would pass
by the mere ticking of the clock,
Irrespective of the man-hours lost
or spells of maternity rests
with guaranteed pay packets,
no choice of leave, sources of loans
no yearly bonus or incentive for extra work load
or has any weapon or rights
for stoppage of work, at the slightest issues.

She is a hard working lady, with a burden to care
a family of four, father and mother are daily wagers
determined, sweaty, untiring, poor, fair sex
ten hours together, in a congested garment shop
machine-like and non-stop, for the last six long years
with no increments, murmur or tears
for a stagnant wage of Rs. 180 per day
yet, she keeps Rs. 30 aside
for an uncertain marriage of self
with lot of dreams of an honourable husband

If I were one of those magical gods
Would come to her rescue by a new ‘avtar'
as the most lovable, kind, honest match
to be in service, to this ‘restless, serene flower'

Louis Santhana

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A Warning to Ladies

Deah Ladies,
Let me wawn you, theah are feahful taimes to come,
And a mos' ter-ific strugge is at hand;
And we have no taime to speah
If we wish to do ouah sheah
To defend, like Joan of Awk, ouah native land.
Foah a really fraightful monstah is preparing to devouah
All that's uppab-clauss and propah and quaite naice;
And if we should be behaind
In the battle aye shall faind
All ouah priveleges vanish in a traice.


O, it makes me shuddah, ladies, when Ai ventuah to reflect
On the ravages this mongstah contemplates.
He will break up all ouah homes,
And where'er the creatuah roams,
We'll be sundered from ouah lawful Tory mates.
We'll be tawn from ouah poah husbands in a most fe-rocious way,
0, deah ladies, can you realise ouah lot?
For the monstah has his eye
On the Sacred Marriage Tie;
And he'll eat up all the babes we haven't got.


And remembah, deahest ladies, all ouah comfort now depends
On destroying this wild Socialistic beast.
Ouah sassiety diversions
Would be vulgah mob excursions
If we pandered to the monstah in the least.
He is bent on confiscating all the houses, land and wealth
Of ouah husbands, and ouah brothahs, and ouah friends.
He is jealous of his bettahs.
And he calls ouah men-folk sweatahs,
He'll do anything to gain his awful ends.


He's vulgah and unchivalrous this feahful Labah thing.
He is teaching all ouah servants to despise us.
He would drag us to his level,
And he'd send to the - ah - devil
All the luxuries with which his toil supplies us.
He harps upon equality when, as of course you know,
And as all the very naicest people know,
It would simply mean disaster
To imagine ev'ry master
Quaite as ignorant as workers or as 'low.'


0, smaite the Socialistic monstah! Smaite him hard, mai deahs!
0, gathah up youah skirts and join the fray.
Pray, do not shirk the battle, or, with wailing and with teahs,
You'll regret youah negligence on polling day,
We must teach the vulgah working class their raight position here;
We must keep them in their places; we must faight them without fear,
Or there'll be a bittah wail, mai deahs,
If Socialists prevail, mai deahs,
And all 'raight thinking' people and the 'naicest' disappear.

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We Must Work!

the integrity of a society
is based in its working class.
for the society to survive,
and to thrive,
the working class must be allowed
to work...
and must be willing to do so!
we are builders, makers, shapers...
but we are not slaves, pawns,
or profit margin...
we must work!

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Working Class Man

The‘working class'man comes home after a hard working day,
Another shift over, a step closer to a much needed wage or pittance of pay.
Trying his best to maintain his and family's basic needs,
Working through his life's prime.
Also trying to plan future seeds,
Until'his retirement time.

Forty years or more of graft and sweat,
At the end of it, What does he get?
Pat's on the back, handshake or maybe a golden watch that is already set!
To remind himself of the good and bad times he may have had,
A reminder if they were funny or sad.

A ticking memory of friends he made or met,
A‘time watch'to watch the pass of time that he's got left.

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Non-working class is in minority

Wise men are in minority.
Teachers, Scholars and philosophers.
The society must value the minority
Then it will grow to prosperity.
24.05.2002, pakd

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Make no mistake: The organization of the working class must be both economic and political. The capitalist is organized upon both lines. You must attack him on both.

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His Royal Nakedness

All the great crown jewels
Never can make a man wise.
And all his good education may well
Mirage the False in our eyes.

All the flimsy wealth and gold
Can't hide the inner vacuum there.
A hollow character sadly told
His imprudence everywhere!

Youth is never a good excuse
For Actions betray its Source.
From those where Leadership takes dues
Decency's always the right recourse.

While all the world has Poverty
And the working class aches with taxes,
The web is having such a big party
Seeing His Royal Nakedness.

Cynthia Buhain Baello
August 23,2012
Philippines

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Class Divide

It was an odd situation the town was divided by a river.
The west side was the posh part. I lived there, that is
I worked as a cook at a tourist hotel and had a room in
the basement of the hotel. The east, across the river,
was where my girlfriend lived, a working class area
that only had gritted roads and houses were not painted.
The hotel director’s daughter loved me even though,
she had gone to a boarding school in Swiss, all I had
to do was to take elocution lessons and the world of
paved roads and villas would be mine. But my heart was
in uproar I loved the girl across the river she spoke my
language, salty and direct. So I crossed the Rubicon
an August night when the moon was full, but I had
dallied too long, she didn’t want a boyfriend who spoke posh.

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A New Football Season

The new football season is here once again
fans hoping for a winning campaign ahead
supporters will be proudly wearing their colours
in grounds you'll see Blue, White, Black, and Red.
But the Olympics will be a tough act to follow
as it's been the best one for so many years
all the athletes gave it one hundred per cent
giving it lots of blood, sweat, and tears.
Football was once known as a working class game
until alas money reared it's ugly head
now players earn huge amounts of cash
and it's become a sport of affluence instead.
But when you love football it's in the blood
even though it's changed so much over the years
but there's just something about a matchday
the banter, watching a game, and having some beers.
So bring on the opening match of the new season
and I hope I leave with a big smile on my face
but a football campaign is tough and very long
so I'm fit for a marathon and not a sprint race!

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Everything Is Kiling Me....

As soon as you're born they make you feel small
By giving you no time instead of it all
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be

They hurt you at home and they hit you at school
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool
Till you're so fucking crazy you can't follow their rules
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be

When they've tortured and scared you for twenty odd years
Then they expect you to pick a career
When you can't really function you're so full of fear
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be

Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV
And you think you're so clever and classless and free
But you're still fucking peasants as far as I can see
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be

There's room at the top they are telling you still
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill
If you want to be like the folks on the hill
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be

If you want to be a hero well just follow me
If you want to be a hero well just follow me

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Any Love

Your candelabra from cousin Barbara
The softest lighting for the hardest heart
You have your trinkets, you wear your mink It's
So very you just acting out a part.
You've had your botox you wear your low frocks
Say you only want to be alone
All very Dietrich a very cool pitch
So many rings, unlike your telephone.
You have your shag pile you wear your false smile
That 'mirror' face- you think you're sex on a stick
You loathe to cook love, take off your white glove
And utter 'Garcon' as your fingers click.
You top the charts of lonely hearts
Your only friend, the falling rain
But lady take heed as you struggle and bleed
Because any love will leave you pain.
He's such a Lothario, A perfect scenario
A winer- diner working from a script
Never fell in love though once he tripped
A heart not torn but slightly ripped.
He drives a Mercs, he drinks with jerks,
Who bear the onus of massive bonus
Lap dance clubs and seedy pubs
Not really friends just grinning Jonahs.
He wears a Rolex, he deals in shipwrecks
Love them and leave them, a cannon loose
And when they're crying his tears are drying
Before they start, he's slipped the noose.
But he must remember it's his December
Youth never ever calls again
His roving eye one day will cry
Because any love will leave you pain.

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Corruption Reigns Supreme

Politicians and union chiefs,
Are really so alike,
High salaries and pension schemes,
They never go on strike.

They're rewarded when they make a mess,
The same applies when they fail,
Whereas we'd be sacked immediately,
Then thrown into jail.

Their policies are much the same,
In Immorality they are entwined,
They want the plebs under their thumb,
In corruption they are enshrined.

They're paid for by the working class,
They always get their way,
Yet when it comes to all their perks,
We do not have a say.

When we hit recession,
For us redundancy will lurk,
While they retain their earnings,
They forever remain in work.

Take the miners leader,
He was pretty deft,
He's the leader of a union,
Where there are no miners left.

Trade unions and the government,
Have an affiliation,
You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours,
It's a truly sick creation.

You often find that union chiefs,
End up as politicians,
The job is very much the same,
Dictating our conditions.

If they were truly competent people,
With problems we would not be beset,
But throughout the world these wasters,
Have saddled us with massive debt.

They must be forced to recognise,
That we've all had enough,
If they had to live as we do,
They would find it really tough.

The workers of the modern world,
Really need to unite,
Strip these people of all their power,
Then push them out of sight.

Maybe then we could rid ourselves,
Of our lowly self esteem,
But the problem is we're far too weak,
That's Why,

'' Corruption Reigns Supreme ''

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Hope and Light, and Love

You – whose inner strength, I always think
to be the greater than my fluctuating own –
ask, only half humorously, as
business, family support, collapses all around,
for a poem of hope and light and love…

and I fall still and silent; for to me
only stillness, silence, are my answer
to those mighty questions of what within ourselves
we have, and have not; lose and find again…

and in the stillness of the silence, because
I am of ‘certain’ yet uncertain age…
hear the family voice still sounding in the ear of memory

of that sweet Stoicism of the Victorian working class:
…‘working’ indeed; even to the work-house…
and ‘class’; yet class with pride; hope (wasn’t the Baptist chapel
built along with Hope Street?): light; and love…

that Stoicism (would they know the word?)
that folds its hands onto its tidy lap, when
all around collapses, and says quietly,
“It’s trying.. as the good Lord knows,
for he’s tried me oftentimes enough…”

and Sunday starts and ends the week,
the ‘day of rest’ when God and Man
work hardest, and together..

that sweet Stoicism… that responds
to the muted tea-cup whine of others, with
‘We must just count our blessings, dear…’

or break into the mutual relief of song:
‘Count your blessings, one by one’..

and never was the One more to be sought, whose blessings
are only counted, as sleep’s sheep leap
over the stile of thought,
counted one by one; each one blessing, blest,
containing All -

All, and as you said yourself,
Hope; Light; and Love; these three..

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The Third World War

As our world dips deeper into recession,
Unemployment then falls through the floor,
Millions without work causes depression,
As the working class are shown the door.

They watch as the rich go on their merry way,
The very people who caused this crash,
On their lavish lifestyles we do not have a say,
They look upon us as their trash.

As worldwide we lose our work and homes,
Our patience is running out fast,
As the rich sit back polishing their chromes,
We are asking how long can this last.

We need to be very careful here,
Our history shows were we are heading,
The very thought should fill us with fear,
It's world leaders we should be dreading.

To curb unemployment in one fell swoop,
The answer is there in their face,
We already know just how low they'll stoop,
Millions of us will vanish without trace.

It creates work for all in a very short time,
It's a solution they do like to use,
Any other day it would be classed as a crime,
So we need to watch out for their ruse.

The Eurozone ‘' PLEBS ‘' are up in arms,
We're all paying for the rich boys mistakes,
Why they're not affected should sound our alarms,
While we starve the politician takes.

The whole Middle East is about to erupt,
Turkey and Syria are about to implode,
Israel is watching with baited breath,
As their weapons of death they unload.

Their allies stand by waiting to move in,
With nuclear weapons in hand,
They'll then start a battle no one can win,
Claiming against evil we must make a stand.

This will be Armageddon of that there's no doubt,
They need to know their actions we abhor,
Common rules of decency politicians will flout,
As they instigate,

‘' The Third World War ‘'

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Driving Through Detroit

Driving through Detroit
retroactive race riot
animosity still reverberates

sometimes subtle levels
others blatantly bold faced
insidious incidences occur
setting destructive domino
forces ignorance falling upon fear

corruptible forces
called claim to the stakes
dealing discriminate hands
well before coleman young
cashed in at the table

catalyst for mass suburban exodus
spurred by cadillac shepherds
blind preaching highway progress

segregationist slumlords
set roots for city rot urban decay

residents denied daily basic
survival dependent city services

neighborhoods foreclosed
copper piping stripped bare
district school budget
picked clean
in maintenance of
board-member parachutes
keeping up
cash lined city council pockets

unreliable emergency response time
criminals entrusted to monitor city crime

witness firsthand how the priveleged elect
pillage the yeast of the poor
sundering the daily bread of the people

derelict shells of firebombed
foreclosed family units
once flourishing urban conclaves
now paved in order to make way
for the royal automotive carpet

despoliation's acrid growth
desolation lot after lot
homes abandoned in droves
widows weeds woven amongst
vacant refuse dumped at random

roots upended
poverty weeding people
from the city

golds loveless bi product
here they obscure your face
with sterile paperwork coverups
impersonal short sight handouts

legislation passed
sweep public streets
thoroughly sanitize
guilty hands with crisp
scent of pine sol
soaked dollar bills

society's back alley castaways
backed into perpetual corners
dusty disposition of apparitional driftwood
residential refugees deprived of basic humanity

urban renewal aims
to phase out the down and out
sugar coat the statistics

kicked from the sidewalks
banished from the streets
life amounts to a simple bite to eat
warm shelter protection from cold safe sleep

downtown commercial district thrives
under pretty pink and green
neon casino cash flow

Grecian fountains
mega million dollar
sport amphitheaters
lions and tiger
icon offerings

prime real estate flats
resting along riverfront

night owl jazz
accompanying
all night bar tabs
anything to attract
the white whale cash
dropped by the
working class
weekend tourist

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