LABOUR DAY
This day, your day, You whose hammer knocks the nail into the wood Restless fabricators who dare the forge And its raging fire This day, your day, Toilers on the
This day, your day,
You whose hammer knocks the nail into the wood
Restless fabricators who dare the forge
And its raging fire
This day, your day,
Toilers on the factory floor
Who roll the wheels where raw iron
Turns into toughest steel
This day, your day,
Lamp-headed men who crawl like moles
In mines which drain their blood and sweat
For masters who wield the whip and bank the gold
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This day, your day,
Grease-coated drillers in our desecrated Delta
Its oily tears* and bloody barrels
And the deadly dealings of our Thieves-of-State
This day, your day,
The swindled farmer. Bent like his ancient hoe
The hands that build the barn
Stagger back home with hunger in their bags
Labour Day, Labour's Day
We push the plough
We kindle the factory
We who sow deserve to reap
•Title of Ibiwari Ikiriko's first book of poems
