In the morning light, before the sun's first kiss,
Awake, arise, it's time for work, no time to reminisce.
With calloused hands and weary eyes,
The laborers march, beneath the open skies.

Oh, the working souls, with hearts so bold,
In factories and fields, their stories unfold.
Through sweat and toil, they build the dreams,
The backbone of a nation, in silent streams.