Dirt On My Hands

Hard work and perspiration,

It’s been fifty years and above,

All my life I have worked in this coal mine,

I am reaching sixty now.

My parents told me not to study,

And earn my daily bread.

My friends thought I was lucky I didn’t go to school,

But earned my daily wages instead.

My wife wanted me,

to get a job of a clerk,

So that I would not be exhausted,

From the day’s physical work.

My little princess would say,

“O dad, don’t soil my new frock!”

There is dirt on your hands,

And the dirt in your sock.

The coal on my hands,

Has been there all the while,

I have not yet been able to wash it off,

To make my princess smile.