With toil, much is made
We pass, but do not see;
The carpenter’s long care
Just things, to you or me —
But over down the way,
A man works at his call,
And if it weren’t for men like him,
We’d have no things
At all
With toil, much is made
We pass, but do not see;
The carpenter’s long care
Just things, to you or me —
But over down the way,
A man works at his call,
And if it weren’t for men like him,
We’d have no things
At all
