The Workers

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Tiny ants ,
Puny bees,
buzzing non-stop,
to get atop;

Nevertheless they have to fail,
for the capitalists prevail;

Eternally struck in the pyramid's base,
what they own is a lace;

They,the core of the nation,
but, futile is the notion;
Few know they route the motion
of the economy with passion;

some strive by the sweat of the brow;
Others execute by the sweat of the brain;
These work by the sweat of Red;

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