Phil Ochs — Hands

Oh I've seen the hands of the laborer lifting all the loads And the Granite stuck to their fingers as they built the canals and the roads Now they're clear and the bridges span Rivers paused by a power dam And now, the hands of the laborer are reaching out to you Oh, the hands, hands, hands That work to build the land, your land The labor of a man, man, man working with his hands And I've seen the hands of the miner digging out the coal And the black dust stuck to his fingers as he lives his life in a hole But the rocks they're under the ground and the miners are closing down And now, the hands of the miner is reaching out to you Oh, the hands, hands, hands That work to build the land, your land The labor of a man, man, man, a-working with his hands And I've seen the hands of the lumberjack, and the forests sway in the breeze And the splinters stuck to his fingers as the lumber was torn from the trees And the wood that came from the timber tall built your buildings from wall to wall And now, the hand of the lumberjack is reaching out to you Oh, the hands, hands, hands A-workin on the land, your land The labor of a man, man, man, a-working with his hands And I've seen the hands of the farmer plow across the field And the topsoil stuck to his fingers as the land was split by the steel. Just growing all he could grow to fill your tables row after row And now, the hand of the farmer is reaching out to you Oh, the hands, hands, hands A-workin on the land, your land The labor of a man, man, man, a-working with his hands, hands, hands A-workin with his hands