When men went down the mines each day
Their lives more quickly passed away
Than did the lives of those who went
Off to offices, where they spent
Their hours in far less arduous work,
And also could enjoy the perk
Of clean, fresh air, without the dust
That every miner daily must
Endure while he’s each morning bound
To make his way far underground.
Things, of course, are better now,
But still one can’t the mines endow
With everything that other see
Their place of work should always be.
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