| Song | Bal Maiden |
| Artist | Seth Lakeman |
| Album | Word Of Mouth (Limited Edition) |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 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. | |
| 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. |
| 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. | |
| 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. |
| 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. | |
| 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. |