Oh come on all you workers, who toil night and day, by hand and by brain, to earn your pay.Who for centuries all past, for no more than your bread, have bled for your countries and counted your dead.We're the first ones to starve, we're the first ones to die, the first ones in line for that pie in the sky.And we're always the last when the cream is shed out, for the worker is working when the fat cat's about.In the factories and mills, shipyards and mines, we've often been told,to keep the bread.To keep up with the times, for our skills are not needed.They've streamlined the job, with slight rule and stopwatch, our pride they have robbed.We're the first ones to starve, we're the first ones to die, the first ones in line for that pie in the sky.And we're always the last when the cream is shed out, for the worker is working when the fat cat's about.And when the sky darkens, and the prospect is war, who's given a gun and then pushed to the fore, and expected to die, for the land of our birth.Though we've never owned one lousy handful of earth, we're the first ones to starve, we're the first ones to die, the first ones in line for that pie in the sky.Though we've never owned one lousy handful of earth, we're the first ones to starve, we're the first ones to die, the first ones in line for that pie in the sky.And we're always the last when the cream is shed out, for the worker is working when the fat cat's about.And all of these things, the worker has done.From telling the fields, to carrying the gun.We've been yoked to the plough, since time first began.Since time first began.Always expected to carry the canWe're the first ones to starveWe're the first ones to dieThe first ones in line for that pie in the skyAnd we're always the lastWhen the cream is shed outFor the worker is workingWhen the fat cat's aboutWe're the first ones to starveWe're the first ones to dieThe first ones in line for that pie in the skyAnd we're always the lastWhen the cream is shed outFor the worker is workingWhen the fat cat's about