And did his clogs ring clear across the setts
As bleary-eyed beneath a bankrupt sky
He strode to meet the yawning beast, and then was swallowed whole
To serve a nations need
To heft and hew until the seam was riven,
To choke and strain and drive his screaming muscles to their task,
To eat his weight in dust,
This man of coal, this prisoner without crime,
Except of circumstance and lottery.
His choice? -no choice at all.
Yet sweet the moment came, when, labour done and given rate at pocket, snug,
The kiss of coin to gladden Nellie’s purse and wipe the slate,
And furnish foaming pint to lift the heart and guide oblivion,
And gird the loins to serve another day.
