Black was the color of the hole below
Where the miner reluctantly would go
To dig and scratch the shiny black ore
In that world below the surface floor.

A world of endless dust and grime
And blackness smothering all time
Broken only by the miner's lamp
Little comfort against the terrible damp.

Seeping into bones and muscle
Tired and worn from daily bustle
Filling lungs that gasped for breath
Burning eyes all filled with sweat.

Then to the ear a welcome sound
A whistle somewhere above the ground
The shift is over once again
And he goes to join the men.

Making their way to the bright daylight
That burns away the awful fright
Hiding in the miner's soul
Each time he goes to take the coal.