He did his bit, he paid his dues
By sweat he earned his bread;
The only time he made the news
Was the day they found him dead.
A simple man of plain attire,
Loved his wife, ‘twas plain to tell;
To no pretences did aspire,
They raised their children well.
Side by side they worked the land
Contented with their lot,
Steadfastly dealt with life’s demands
Whether times were good or not.
On Sunday went to praise the Lord,
Neat and tidy, filled the pew,
Fed their souls on the Living Word,
Set to start the week anew.
Life thus progressed for many years
In simple honest style;
Though there were heartaches, pains and tears
There were lots more laughs and smiles.
Then grandkids came and steps were slowed,
Other hands now took the reins;
Though eyes grew dim and backs were bowed
They were happy just the same.
The paper said he passed from life
On his favoured garden stool,
Left behind a loving wife,
Sons and daughters, grandkids too.
Unheralded he’d lived and died,
Yet his impact’s living on,
For millions like him lived worldwide—
Their earnest sweat we’ve built upon.
So spare a thought for men of worth
Known only to a few
Whose only notice is in death—
I owe them—so do you!
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