The  spade              

All history has leant upon the spade

and dug fence holes to keep the rabble out.

Not much has changed. The prehistoric blade

has rung like bells before the workman’s trade

shovelled sand and mapped the Somme’s dugouts. 

All history has leant upon the spade.

And when the mines swallowed whole brigades

the women dug like navvies through the blackout.

Not much has changed. The prehistoric blade

put food upon the table, carved out fields and laid

down tombstones. Then the gravedigger stood about.

All history has leant upon the spade.

And when our cities buckled under air raids

we pulled together, dug the children out.

Not much has changed. The prehistoric blade

has been the tool that started each stockade

dug deep for land and blood, fought stinking drought.

All history has leant upon the spade.

Not much has changed the prehistoric blade.