The Price of Coal

Deep down in the bowels of this beautiful earth,
Oh his dark throne sits King Coal
He calls for his revenue every day,
Caring neither for body nor soul.
When to the grim monarch the miner descends,
He remembers the saying devine;
Not one of knows what a day may bring forth,
So true of the lads in the mine.

Deep down in the bowels of this beautiful earth,
Death lurks unseen, unheard;
Till with a roar, or a blinding flash,
On the lives of the men he has fared
'Tis then that faith and valor combine,
In deeds that are known but to God and themselves --
So true of the lads in the mine.

Deep down in the bowels of this beautiful earth
We sat, my mate and I,
To plan our work; yet little we thought
In a moment one would die.
O God, 'twas a cry I shall never forget
As my mate paid his price at the shrine;
A price that is sought by the monarch of coal
From the lads who toil in the mine.

Deep down in the bowels of this beautiful earth,
Down in that dark domain;
Men grovel and toil for the treasure it holds
Their bodies oft aching with pain.
As you sit by your fireside in comfort and warmth
And watch the firelight twine;
Give a thought to the price that's paid for in lives
Of our lads who work in the mine.

By Matthew Brown c1936, as published in Black Faces and Tackety Boots: True Stories from the Coal Mines of Lanarkshire by Wilma S. Bolton