Kings in Work Boots
Here's to the man on the graveyard shift, punchin' in while the town's asleepHere's to the one down by the river with a lunch pail and a secret to keepHere's to the dad in the duct-taped boots, eatin' last so his kids eat firstHere's to every man in Mercy Hollow who keeps showin' up through the worst
No crowd's gonna chant his nameNo parade down Highway 12
They're kings in work bootsCrowns of sweat and dustCallused hands and heavy heartsAnd a God that they can trustNobody bows, nobody claps, nobody hands 'em goldBut they're kings in work bootsHoldin' up the world
Here's to the man in the church basement, ninety days of stayin' cleanHere's to the one who forgave her for the sake of what the kids had seenHere's to the dad drivin' a hundred miles every other Friday nightHere's to the brother in his slippers, sittin' in the gravel till the light
Nobody writes songs about 'emSo brother, this one's yours
They're kings in work bootsCrowns of sweat and dustCallused hands and heavy heartsAnd a God that they can trustNobody bows, nobody claps, nobody hands 'em goldBut they're kings in work bootsHoldin' up the world
Don't need a golden crown, don't need a velvet throneThe King of kings wore thorns and carried wood up a hill aloneSo every man who bleeds for love and carries what he has to bearWalks the road the Carpenter walked, and brother, He sees you there
They're kings in work bootsCrowns of sweat and dustCallused hands and heavy heartsAnd a God that they can trustNobody bows, nobody claps, nobody hands 'em goldBut they're kings in work bootsHoldin' up the world
Stand up, kings in work bootsStand up