Forged in the fire of the Fords and Churchills
We were the hands that built barns and mills
Bent back and blistered palms, grim was our story
Worn thin by the grind, stripped of any glory
But time, the gentle alchemist has turned the wheels anew
Now we stir to bird songs and coffee brew
To days no longer grey with soot, toiling for survival
Where once we marched to factory bells archival
The sun caresses my skin – gleeful, warm and kind
The soft morning breeze gently soothing my mind
Silent mouths, smiling eyes our worth not counted in coins
But in creation, culmination and vision, not just followers blind
Coffee brewing, ideas stewing, the comforting hum of life
A friendly honk, a tip of the hat, not just struggle and strife
Once tethered to the ticking clock, we feel human again
Not just ‘Cogsworth’ captains we are, now we move with Zen
