Within these hands
I've held things of all sort.
I've held wood and metal
Wine, beer and port

These hands could tell a story
Were they given the chance
They've held the faces of women
Or their hand while we danced

They've rubbed and sawn and sanded and nailed
They've fenced and spread they've assembled and bailed.

They've loved and lost and won and cried
They've hurt and ached and triumphed and tried.

They're calloused and rough
They're scarred and they're tan
They're the hands a real working man

They've held on to babies
They've held on to men
They've held other hands
As we said amen.

These hands could tell stories
Of an owner so cruel
They've even been referred to
As the hands of a fool

They've built and demolished
They've dusted and polished
They've painted and stained
They've seen joy and pain

Changed tires and brakes
They've cooked and they've baked
Been cut and been burned
They've felt and they've yearned

These hands belong to a very rare breed
They belong to a man who has lived indeed

These hands have seen work
These hands have seen fun
But one thing is sure
Their job is never done.

-Kevin Kellar

That's good

Nice!

Yep. and unfortunately a dyin breed

Thank God for people that have hands like these.