An old dust coat of ink and brown
And I would feel the warmth
Of the power in his hands that
And watched him as he worked,
a man that was a hero to my eye
My mother cared for the broken few
She filled their plates and did all she could
To smooth the sheets, to tidy up the floor
And I would feel the warmth
And we would see this home
And she said, sleep my darlings please
He grew the crops of a family life
Then out of nothing he lost his place
Things fell apart, a feeling of disgrace
And he would often wake and ask her
And felt we looked at him to ask
Is he the measure of a man?
And she said, sleep my darling, please
And now I work in a counting house I manage life,
I really can't complain at all
My kids, my wife, the beauty of it all
Are a thousand little problems in my mind
I'm trying to make it work
And you say, sleep my darling, please
Tomorrow you'll be free to start again,
Got to make it work, got to make it work
Got to make it work, got to make it work