How the Brooklyn Bridge was built, and the continuing march across it.

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Brooklyn Bridge

When a bridge begins, it’s just a dream,
Imagination’s rainbow arching across a stream.
But to sink a foundation
in the river’s rock and sand
Takes more than a vision,
it takes strong arms and hands.

Chorus:
And these great cables vibrate with their songs.
We will remember them as we march on.

These graceful towers rest on their bones—
Sandhogs and divers, brothers of Davey Jones,
Rising from the caissons,
nitrogen bubbles in their veins,
To live as cripples,
or to die in awful pain. (Chorus)

They came to Brooklyn from everywhere,
Refugees from famine, dictatorship, despair,
To work the rigging, no nets to break their fall,
Crushed and forgotten
they’re only workers, after all.

How many lovers, how many fathers,
How many voices? Nobody knows.
Company ledgers count only the dollars.
The hired hands, it’s easy come, easy go.

This bridge is swaying beneath our feet.
A cry for justice over a reggae beat.
Each generation learns a lesson from the last,
Reaching for the future
from the bridges of the past. (Chorus)