England lies below the ground Chiselled out of diamond, Blackened halls where men would dance On floors of obsidian, twice removed from the stars. Parlours made of coal. Where man and beast alike would toil Birth would grant them pigment But birthβs decision was in vain, When the sun began to fall, they would arise, of colour all the same. Nowadays the men walk free; Above Drink pints in the morning, offer empty yells, To that guy who came here to escape the shells, To the girl who arrived here with three degrees, And now scrubs floors down on her knees, To the guy who works for minimum wage, He could be writing upon this very page. Spirit crushed under coal when the mines closed down Now England lies below the ground.