In the early morn, when the world is still,
Workers stir, ready to fill,
The hours with toil, with sweat and skill,
In offices high, and factories mill.

With hands that craft and minds that think,
Bound to their desks, or on the brink,
Of great inventions, or just to link,
The world together, in an unbroken chain's kink.

Each task, a piece in a grander scheme,
From the mundane to the utmost extreme,
In every endeavour, they dare to dream,
Fuelling progress, a relentless team.

The teacher imparts wisdom, a guiding light,
The farmer toils, from morning to night,
The artist creates, a vision in sight,
The doctor heals, with all their might.

In the hustle of trade, the markets roar,
In the quiet of study, knowledge they store,
In the heat of the forge, the metals soar,
In the heart of service, compassion galore.

The labourer lifts, with strength untold,
The coder types, in a world digital and bold,
The chef cooks, stories in flavours unfold,
The scientist searches, mysteries to behold.

Through each hour, in strain or in ease,
In every triumph, or a sudden freeze,
In workplaces vast, or a small cubicle's squeeze,
Work weaves through life, like a gentle breeze.

It's more than pay, more than a duty,
It's a dance of skills, a canvas of beauty,
In every stroke, in every plea,
Work shapes our world, a symphony free.

In the tapestry of toil, colours blend,
In the rhythm of labor, messages send,
Through the fabric of effort, we all depend,
On the work we do, from start to end.

So here's to the workers, in every field.