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!