Текст песни These Hands (Self Portrait) - Bob Dylan

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 praise 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
My life ain't been a success
While some people have power but still they grieve
While these hands have 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 plead
When it's time to take me
Take a look at these hard-workin' hands