at woeful depths in earth's ashtray where darkness reigns both night and day amidst the clang of drill-bit gang dripping in sweat he slaves away - in narrow shaft he's smiling wide with comrades plying at his side chanting along to tribal song rejuvenating kindred pride - monotony of daily chore leaves his brain numb and body sore yet there he'll sit in endless pit upon a rock-face waging war - a layer of dirt adorns his cheeks he hasn't washed his clothes in weeks but dampness quells nose-curling smells job perks of which nobody speaks - the air he breathes robs him of health death creeps on him with choking stealth his sacrifice ultimate price whilst those above fatten their wealth - his product melted, shaped and sold transformed from gravel into gold its wondrous sheen he's never seen let alone had the chance to hold - despite this he sticks to his plan of saving wage as best he can a penny spare which mighty rare he sends back home to aid his clan - and so his children fed and schooled in seeking his job won't be fooled instead they'll grow to overthrow the tentacles by which they're ruled