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The moon shone on the water
Dyed ochre by the iron mines. 
Centuries of men have toiled 
In trenches and in chines. 
Carving through the sheer rock face
To tunnel under hills
Canals to link the land of wealth
To the cities of the mills. 
Airless channels deep below
While all above is calm
And death could be a breath away
Placed in the way of harm. 
Pick and shovel toiled away
Through millstone grit and stone
Canals for coal to fuel the kilns
Firing plates for every home. 
And now two hundred years or more
Have passed and times have altered
For Instead of barges lain with coke
Are cruisers strewn with boaters. 
The working boats have been replaced 
By holidaymakers vessels
And the tunnel stands as testament 
To the stone masons true mettle.

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