Children's Jobs
Deep in the earth’s bowels
We crawl through tight tunnels
Where it’s darker than night
But for glimmer of light
From small stub of tallow,
A feeble yellow glow.
Above our heads the rock
It often creaks and cracks.
We each have our own jobs.
Mine is collecting cobs.
Others sort slate and slack
From the hewn rock-face black.
Some haul full carts of coal
Up track to exit hole.
Crawling through tight tunnels,
Deep in the earth’s bowels.
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