In the depths of the mine the miner toils,
Far from the light of the day;
To earn a crust for those he loves
He works while work he may;
For the years roll on and vitality wanes,
Ere the need of his labour be gone,
So he wills to work while his strength holds out,
For he thinks not of self alone.
The thought of danger or death in the mine
Never daunts his mind or his heart,
And strong is the swing of his brawny arms
As he nobly plays his part.
He holds at his task with a firm resolve,
For he's one of a sterling breed,
To provide the nation with what she requires
In the darkest hour of her need.
When invasion threatens Britannia's shores
He is ready to do or to die,
And Britannia knows that in times of stress
She can on the miner rely
To uphold the honour of Right and Truth,
To defend his country and hearth;
Thank God for men with a heart like his,
They are surely the salt of the earth.
Our country is rich by the sweat of his brow,
And it's needless saying we can't
Provide for the miner and see that his days
Are free from the shadow of want;
And when old age comes with palsied hand
He may rest from his labour until
The angels bear him away to the land
Where he'll work to his Father's will.