”Where it’s dark as a dungeon
And it’s damp as the dew.
Where the dangers are double
And the pleasures are few.
Where the rain never falls
And the sun never shines.
Yes, it’s dark as a dudgeon
Way down in the mine.
Well, I pray when I’m dead
And the ages shall roll.
That my body will blacken
And turn into coal.
Then I’ll look from the door
Of my heavenly home
And pity the miner
That mines my poor bones...”

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