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