We all have dirty hands...

Our hands are dirtied by the dirty work we do.
We poor people raise our hands for sale.
the only asset we have and for feeding our children's,
We ask what will you bid ?
For hands that know the saw,
The hammer,,
Sickle,
Plough,
Picking grapes and fruit's,
And break the land and sow the seed that gives you bread.

Our hands that grasp the sickle, the strong sun burns the brown.
Turning the grapes to wine, see how it stains our hands.
We climb the mountain slopes, we cut the tall trees down
For ships to bring you wealth from other people's lands.

You praise our hands and say the work of them is good
You take and take from us. When did you ever give ?
Dirt cheap you get our work, dirt cheap sweat and blood.
Little you know, little you care what lives we live.

There's coal under the skin of the hands that dig your mines
And sweat falls on the hands we clasp at the angel-us.
We build your palaces on hills above the plains
We build you fields and vineyard's downhill
So we look up to you and you look down on us.

And for the land you own and call our Motherland
You taught our hands to shoot, gas, stab our brothers dead
And bleeding there with them in a land called No Man's Land
We clenched and squeezed the clay as though we kneaded bread.

Our dirty hands are strong. The work of them is good.
To day we have no jobs, Young people without hope,
No security,
No pension or cut in our social welfare
Only the fancy finance's make the money, 
Do not mind as long as they get what they want.
They are nice and egoist's as long as they have what they desire.
And one day perhaps more hope will come to us ?
And you will pay dear for the lives you made us live.
Some day perhaps...