The sound of tap tap tapping

drifts across the neighborhood

the silence of the morning broken by

the sound of men working hammers

walking on roofs

pulling up old shingles

laying new

 

Laborers with skin as brown

as the shingles themselves

tanned by countless hours in the sun

and blistering heat

we hear them exclaiming in their native tongue

singing to their native music

the culture of their hearts

 

They work long and hard

in dangerous work

still they work happily

unconcerned about the risk

their minds are on their families

so very far away

always their families

 

They sing for the joy of work itself

they are not afraid of it

they are used to worse conditions

and ever optimistic

do not look down but out

in optimism across the roof tops

in the distance are their wives and children

those they left behind in sorrow

they know that the work they do

will keep their families fed

 

It is good honest work they do

this is the way all men used to work

before air-conditioning and offices

before we lost the pride and honor

of doing physical work

 

They get by with so little

the clothes on their back

small meals and small paychecks

yet they sing a simple happiness

they sing the joy of all men who work

and contribute and at the end of the day

feel the satisfaction of knowing

their work was good

and the job well done.