On the gameboard of world, where all stay, He must sweat daily, if he wants to play.

If he doesn't earn good, then he has no say, He be the phalanx of the home, come what may.

He must work & he must fight for all his meals, Either a master of his fate, or a destiny world seals.

Alone or married, he has the bills to pay, And man thinks for himself, yet they say.

He fought in the wars, he tilled the soil, Served a world which only knew him for his toil.

He must wake up to glory, can't rest in the mud, To reclaim a world built on his sweat and his blood.

I wish, someday ahead, for scholars it be told, The story of man's rise, fall, & triumph, behold.