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Seth Lakeman
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Bal Maiden
One glance from the southern sky and a spark falls, she passes by.
Waking from the creeping dawn,
From the background of our valley torn.
Our maiden leaves a bed of stone,
Two hungry mouths to feed at home.
In a ruffled dress, in a bodies bound.
All tarnished boots, they weigh her down.
Come in close and I'll tell to you,
Let those sweet notes rise and run me through.
She's a figure on a winding road,
She's a face that fears no heavy load,
She walks a path where those can run,
She pounds her week for thirty tonnes.
Come in close and I'll tell to you,
Let those sweet notes rise and run me through.
In the half laid of the sunken shaft
The rumbling of a deeper blast.
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Those steady stampers one by one
They draw the chambers and block the sun.
Come in close and I'll tell to you,
Let those sweet notes rise and run me through.
A last long leap, a crooked climb,
As she's summoned from the steam and grime.
To a fading sun, a paler sky.
A pale window to her bloodshot eyes.
Come in close and I'll tell to you,
Let those sweet notes rise and run me through.
Growing old with no repair,
Her task and toll go undeclared.
Bal Maiden, now your works run dry.
Sweet widow from the deepest mine.
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