The Hands

The hands that struck the
match  that lit the fires that
boiled the  steam that pushed
the pistons  that turned the
wheels of these  machines
that thrummed and  beat the
corrugated iron of their  lives
their loves the labour of  their
hands that never shook the 
hands that mined the coal that 
stoked the flames that spat
the  smoke that stained the
faces of  these factories black
with soot 

These factories that did not
sleep that chanted and
chanted in the night when the 
hammers smote the steel that 
threw the sparks that stung the 
faces of these people 

These people that did not
sleep that worked and worked
and  sweated the blood that
filled the  pipes that fed the
engine that  throbbed at the
heart of these  machines
these people their  faces their
hands their love their  lives
their labour their blood their
sweat faces hands love  lives
labour 

love lives labour 

lives labour 

labour labour