Beneath the gloom in the
Great earth's womb
We force the birth of coal ;
The power that moves the nation's wheels
To the furnace fires we roll.
We dig out wealth
At the cost of health
To gild oppression's shrine.
(Refrain)
Twill aye be so for
A wage of woe
Till the miners own the mine.
We furnish forth from
South to North.
The force that drives the mill ;
We make the snorting engine dash
Through "forest," fen and hill ;
We rush the lordly ocean craft
Across the bounding brine.
(Refrain)
We take the risk
Of an awful wisk
When that rotten cable breaks ;
We piece the deadly afterdamp
When the shattered ceiling shakes.
We search the wreck
For our mangled mates
When health and life resigns.
(Refrain)
We move the ranks
Of cogs and cranks
Which grinds out food and clothes,
We warm the wall of festive halls
When the wintry tempest blows.
We make the glare and
Cook the fare
Where the lords and ladies dine.
(Refrain)
But we see a light
Through the breaking night
And a smiling dawn we'll greet
We'll toil no more
In the planets core
For a crust and a winding sheet :
We'll drive despair
From the brightening air
With hands and heart combine.
We'll find our health
In the common wealth
When the miners own the mine.
Notes
From the Sydney Newspaper The Workers Weekly 9 Jul 1926 p. 1.
Top