Peat Cutting Men

They toiled with hands like tree bark As they cut through rotted peat Stacking it in heaps to dry Did not have to be that neat Just so long as the Westerly’s Could dry out the peat bog water So it could burn on winters nights Was all that really mattered And they could sit in warm habs With hot broth in their hand Another day’s work completed And an evening’s rest began Fine clothes for Sundays they were saved So they could look their best While thanking God in Heaven above For this His blessed day of rest When they could sit down at the pew With Hymn book at the ready To sing their praises to the Lord With voices strong and steady Then off to Pub to sup a pint And wild stories for to tell Of how they dug for peat so deep They nearly ended up in hell