The Child Miner Poem by Bill Wright

Down, down, down
Deep into the ground,
The miners go again,
Off to do their daily grind,
Damning body, soul and mind,
Some as young as ten.

In the bowels of the earth,
For what it's worth,
They do their fearful job,
In dirt and dust and heat unknown,
They toil, and then just take home,
No more than a couple of bob.

At the end of the day,
Come what may,
They trudge slowly homeward bound,
With thoughts forlorn,
Because they know next morn,
They must go back underground.