Question

Write a story or a description or an account of what this pic suggests u

Answer 1

The Honest working Man.

I’m a Honest Working Man, been doing the best I can. With these callused, worn hands... I make my pay.

My knees cease up so bad, my back locks in pain. Sometimes in winter mornings I lose the tears I hide in the rain.

I was a young man so full of pride, as fresh as the coming promise of Spring.

Now I’m weathered by years past, more so than any wreck I’ve ever seen.

I waded the trenches in the bitterest winters, my bare skin welded to Ice cold Steel.

Shaking so much with no feel to my touch, scarred by wounds that will never heal.

I’m not looking for your pity, Sir.

This is just my story I tell.

The Story Of The Honest Working Man.

Who’s Soul he did never sell.

Summertime did never feel so sad, somehow Dreams were easier made.

Or easier kept alive, when I was laying under that old Oak in the shade.

For the Foreman would call 'lunch,' I’d thank God & wipe my brow.

Find my faithful Tree before falling to the ground.

Then safe from the burning sun, I would Dream of a way out.

Dream of a life of riches, That would never ever be found.

Although I truly knew I would believe in the Dream still.

For it’s the hunger in the searching that creates man's will.

I’m not looking for your pity, Sir.

This is just my story I tell.

The Story Of The Honest Working Man.

Who’s Soul he did never sell.

My hearing near deaf trough the Thunder of the Drills,

I awake & hear them in the still of the night.

Embedded grit in my eyes, as my Heart with the Lies.

Leaves mine a sorry, untrusting sight.

A Volcano in my chest Lava of dirt & dust…

Will never erupt & clear just diminish me you can trust.

A life of hard labour, haunting memories, no penny to my name…

A man of pride brought to his knees yet I feel no shame.

I’m not looking for your pity, sir.

This is just my story I tell.

The Story Of The Honest Working Man.

Who’s Soul he did never sell.

I’m not looking for your pity, sir.

This is just my story I tell.

A life of crime could have been mine

My Soul I did never sell.