You men of wealth and luxury in county town or Shire,
You seldom give a thought to us while sitting by your fire,
Or think upon the dangers that threaten each poor soul,
As fearlessly they go to work to hew and dig the coal.

Down among the coal lads, down among the coal,
All alone and in the dark I tell you it's no lark;
Down among the coal, my lads, oh down among the coal
And it's hard work the life of a miner underground.

Down the shaft ill ventilated the miner he must go,
And crawl upon his hands and knees whenever the roof is low;
The hewer¹, putter¹, driver¹ and the trapper¹ in his hole,
Are all exposed to danger whilst down among the coal.

Without the Collier, England would not gain half her fame;
Without the Collier, doubtless we never would had steam;
Without old Geordie Stephenson¹ no steam engine would roll,
For Geordie was a Collier too and worked among the coal.

While in the dark the dreary mine begrimed with dust and sweat,
While thinking on sweethearts and wives and some dear household pet,
'The pits on fire', that dreadful word sends terror to each soul;
Overcome by gas, the miner meets his death among the coal.

So just bestow a thought on us that labour down below,
That work so hard by day and night to make your fireside glow,
There is no harder working men, if you search from pole to Pole
Than the honest-hearted miner, who hews and digs the coal