Lyrics
America's preachers tell me that
There is no sermon
Well, that's probably true
If we're talking about a secular sermon
On the subject of hard work
Pregnant skyline of America
Was set in place one brick at a time
Now that represents a lot of callouses
America the beautiful is not an accomplished
Fact guaranteed to remain intact
God shed his grace on thee to be sure, but
This was waste land when God
Had it to himself
He handed man a hoe and said
You want another Eden? All right, earn it
And all that's necessary for the
Weeds to take over again
Is for you and me to lay down that hoe
Work, work, work hard work
There is no gospel less popular
Than the gospel of hard work
Work, work, work, hard work
There is no gospel less popular
Get to work, get to work
We tell our young people how our country
Was carved out of the wilderness
No, it wasn't
Our nation was hammered and hoed
And chopped and dug
And sawed and clawed out of the wilderness
By bare handed men who
Asked nothing for nothing
America did not start out
With an agricultural production
That's the awe and envy of the world
It was seeded first by sodbusting farmers
Who fought Indians and ranchers and
Cold and heat and
Drought and bugs and flood and one another
The fruited plain spring forth
From barren acres
Only after they had been watered
With a lot of sweat
Work, work, work hard work
There is no gospel less popular t
Than the gospel of hard work
Work, work, work, hard work
There is no gospel less popular
Get to work, get to work
I guess what I'm saying is that
The more history I studied ours and others
The more certain I am that
There is one fertilizer essential
To the survival of civilization
And that fertilizer is sweat
And I don't mean perspiration
I mean the kind of steamy
Streamy salty sweat that's
Run from a man by hard physical work
Somehow the sweat gets into the soil
Of a farm or a
Factory or a city or a state or a nation
And everything thereabouts grows tall
And strong and
Tough enough to stand against any storm
But the day the sweat dries up
The soil dries up
And whole civilizations are buried in dust
Work, work, work hard work
There is no gospel less popular
Than the gospel of hard work
Work, work, work, hard work
There is no gospel, less popular
Get to work, get to work
Work, work, work hard work
Work, work, work hard work
Get to work
WRITERS
ADAM NARKIEWICZ
PUBLISHERS
Lyrics © Songtrust Ave
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