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All the weary mothers
Of the earth will finally rest
We will take their babies in our arms,
And do our best.
When the sun is low upon the field,
To love and music they will yield,
And the weary mothers
Of the earth will rest.

And the farmer on his tractor,
And beside his plow,
Will stand there in confusion
As we wet his brow
With the tears
Of all the businessmen
Who see what they have done to him,
And the weary farmers
Of the earth shall rest.

And the aching workers
Of the world again shall sing
These words in mighty choruses
To all will bring
We shall no longer be the poor,
For no one owns us any more,
And the workers
Of the world again shall sing.

And when soldiers
Burn their uniforms in every land,
And the foxholes
At the borders will be left unmanned
General, when you come for the review
The troops will have forgotten you,
And the men and women
Of the earth shall rest.

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