The Philosophy of Mr. Ure

Spoken Word, Dark Classical, Minimalist, Dark Ambient, Cold, academic, and unsettling, Led by a pompous, detached, spoken-word male voice with an English accent, delivering a lecture, Instrumentation is sparse: just a high, stark cello drone and a slow, cold classical guitar

[Verse 1] (Spoken) The artisan, intractable, Prone to fits of pride and strife. His skill, a fortress, unattackable, That held the master's trade in life. He saw himself a petty lord, Whose wage must never be diminished. But such a man could not afford The simple truth... his reign is finished. [Verse 2] (Spoken) Observe the philanthropic grace Of the self-acting water frame. It needs no strength, it sets the pace, And finds the sullen workman lame. What grace! To free the man of skill From labor merely dull and rote. And in his place, with happier will, Employ the hands of lesser note. [Verse 3] (Spoken) A child's quick hand, a woman's eye, So docile, nimble, and so cheap. They watch the threads of cotton fly, And bless the factory's smoky keep. This is the order of the day, The march of progress, true and bold. The stubborn artisan gives way... To silver... and to gold. [Outa ro] (Spoken) ...his reign is finished. © 2026 The Shady River Bard. All rights reserved.

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