If I Could Kill This Spinning Soil

If I could kill this spinning soil
This earth that made this poor man toil
This street, this road, this ancient path
This floor, this room, this blackened hearth
A death so painful and so cruel
I’d strike the match, ignite the fuel.

A Miner was my life before
I kissed my family, closed the door
I worked the face till fingers bled
My bills were paid my bairns were fed.
I dug the pit to earn my crust
But coal ran out, just nowt but dust.

The dole was given and I took
The pittance spent on line and hook
A fisherman was what I’d be
But foreign people robbed our sea.
Those waters which were full and plenty
Were now just cold, the nets were empty.

I stood up straight and made a stand
I borrowed money, bought some land.
Moved the family, goods and chattel
A farmer me, I raised some cattle
Disease dropped by, I watched them fall
One summers dawn, I burned them all

The Bank who once were warm and kind
Now were stern, they’d changed their mind.
“We want our money, don’t you fail.”
“And if you do, you’re off to jail.”
We counted pennies from our pot.
But bailiffs came. They took the lot

My wife who once stood by my side
Could fight no more, weak, broke, she died
The kids, now older, soon departed
Just me alone, just like I started
So, understand my hate and sorrow
I hope this earth is dead tomorrow.

If I could kill this spinning soil
This earth that made this poor man toil
This street, this road, this ancient path
This floor, this room, this blackened hearth
A death so painful and so cruel
I’d strike the match, ignite the fuel.