Bob Dylan - These Hands

These hands aren’t the hands of a gentleman,
These hands are calloused and old.
But these hands raised a family;
These hands built a home.

Now these hands raise to pray the Lord.
These hands won the heart of my loved one,
And with hers they were never alone.
If these hands filled their task,
Then what more can one ask?
For these fingers have worked to the bone.

Now don't try to judge me by what you'd like to be,
For my life ain't been much success.
While some people have power, but still they grieve
While these hands brought me happiness.

Now I'm tired and I'm old and I ain't got much gold
Maybe things ain't been all that I planned.
But Lord above, hear my plea, when it's time to take me
Take a look at these hard-workin' hands.