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One man drills a powder-hole the colour of a bruise
One man sounds the bugle and another one lights the fuse
Blow up! Pick and shovel it! Carry the earth away
Brains and brawn with hammers drawn blasting through the day
Rain is the cold
Steam is the burn
Speed is the way the world turns (round)
Draughtsmen and surveyors work at pegging out the shaft
Ten of us to breathe the dust, ten to do the graft
Underneath the Pennine range the bodies lie in racks
40 miles of steel and tile follow in their tracks
Some men build a monument
Some men build a tomb
Some men move the world around
To give them breathing room
Some men carve a statue
Of Isambard Brunel
Some men carved a tunnel into hell
Soon they'll build a tunnel under England through to France
Will it make the tide run quicker? Will the flow of trade advance?
Underneath the ocean there is limestone, chalk and sand
But coming up through virgin rock will be the human hand!
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