In caverns subterranean,
With limbs not bound by gyve or chain,
Of those who toil, few are the men
Who reach the threescore years and ten.
Such was the smoke-polluted mine
Wherein we slaved from morn till night,
Or when the sun had ceased to shine
We toiled till his returning light,
Then dragged each one his ball and chain
Back to his bed of straw again.