 The Nicholas's, the Fasowskis, the Smiths, the Ridleys too The Blacks, the Irish, Italians, the Germans and the Jews They come across the water a thousand miles from home With nothing in their bellies but the fire down below They died building the railroads they worked upon to skid They died in the fields and factories named Sky and the Wind They died in Guinea a hundred years ago, they're still dying now The hands that built the country we're always trying to keep out