Kingdom

We're low - we're low - mere rabble, we know

But, at our plastic power,

The mould at the lording's feet will grow

Into palace and church and tower

Then prostrate fall - in the rich man's hall,

And cringe at the rich man's door;

We're not too low to build the wall,

But too low to tread the floor.

Down, down we go - we're so very low,

To the hell of the deep sunk mines,

But we gather the proudest gems that glow,

When the crown of a despot shines.

And whenever he lacks - upon our backs

Fresh loads he designs to lay;

We're far too low to vote the tax,

But not too low to pay.

We're low - we're low - we're very very low,

Yet from our fingers glide

The silken flow - and the robes that glow

Round the limbs of the sons of pride.

And what we get - and what we give -

We know, and we know our share;

We're not too low the cloth to weave,

But too low the cloth to wear!