I found that I had this on file already - hence the capitals

THE FORESHIFT

Oh, the foreshift dark and dreary
Oh, this lonely two o'clock
Limbs may ache and hearts be weary
Yet still there comes the caller's knock
And each blow upon the panels
Bids us up and don our flannels
Then by light of lamp or candle
Batter at the grimy rock

Just to earn a bare subsistence
Little earned and nothing saved
With the workhouse in the distance
After we for years have slaved
Some look on in holy horror
At each pitman's little error
But would soon abate their terror
Could they see the dangers grave

To the coal's grim face we travel
And again our flannels doff
Can they wonder if we cavil
At the ones much better off
Like a snake our bodies coiling
Weary hours - incessant toiling
Through each pore the sweat comes boiling
Think on that, you ones who scoff

Up where stars are dimly peeping
Through the midnight sable bloom
Up where pampered ones are sleeping
In their snug and cosy room
Foreshift terrors need not haunt them
Nor the pit's dark dangers daunt them
Oh! 'Twas kind of fate to plant them
Where they could so safely bloom

REPEAT FIRST VERSE

Words - Matthew Tatum (1886)
Music Tom Brown

Sung by Peter Wood of the Keelers on "On the North Sea Ground"

Changed from all caps. --JoeClone, 1-Aug-02.