The miner

The miner lives by the pit-light,

he doesn't need the sunlight.

The stars don't change, nor does the moon,

where the old prince of the earth sits in state.

He sees the ore as bad rock,

but holds dear the gold and silver.

On cold, wet ground and on dry paths

he seeks only that first bright strike.

The shining ore, it is the prize,

after which one runs with wild greed.

However worldly ways bring worry and pain and danger,

that is why the pit-light draws them.

Need and worry may threaten,

the miner finds the right rock,

wearily then he extinguishes his little lamp

and he is off to the public-house.