And the vale with the fragrant hay.
Our place we know, we’re so very, very low,
’Tis down at the landlord’s feet;
We’re not too low the grain to grow,
But too low the bread to eat.
Down, down we go, we’re so very, very low,
To the hell of the deep-sunk mines;
But we gather the proudest gems that glow,
When the crown of the despot shines;
And when’er he lacks, upon our backs