IN the coal-pit, or the factory,
I toil by night or day,
And still to the music of labour
I lilt my heart-felt lay;
I lilt my heart-felt lay
And the gloom of the deep, deep
mine,
Or the din of the factory dieth away,
And a Golden Lot is mine.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem