(Oppenheim/Denver)
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As we go marching, marching in the beauty of the day,
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a million darkened kitchens, a thousand mill lofts gray
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are touched with all the radiance that a sudden sun discloses.
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For the people hear us singing, bread and roses, bread and roses.
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As we go marching, marching, we battle too for men.
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For they are women's children and we mother them again.
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Our lives shall not be sweetened from birth until life closes.
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Hearts starve as well as bodies, give us bread, but give us roses.
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As we go marching, marching, we bring the greater days
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for the rising of the women means the rising of the race.
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No more the drudge and idler, ten that toil where one reposes,
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but the sharing of life's glories, bread and roses, bread and roses.
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Bread And Roses
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| John Denver |
