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The Ballad of Big Damage & Little Pot-a-tea

Gather 'round and listen, folks, to the story that I tell
about the man they called Big Damage and his journey into Hell.

Big Damage was a miner in the Topaulet mines;
been diggin' coal and copper since before the end of time.
He digs before the sun come up and leaves when it go down
and by the time he goes to bed to work again he's bound.

Well one day he's just digging hard, as hard's the sun is bright
when with his pick he makes a hole which fills the shaft with light.
Big Damage strikes again and calls for Little Pot-a-Tea
who'd known him back when Pot was six and little Big was three.

"The heck you done," said Pot-a-tea whilst looking down the hole,
"you done dug straight to Hell, Big Damage; it must be, so it's so."
"You sure that's Hell?" Big Damage asked, "Well I thought Hell was hot,"
Big Damage sighed and then went on, "and if it is, that's not."

They argued back and forth for hours, months, and days
until they said, "Let's call it quits" and went their separate ways.
Big Damage, though, he stayed behind when Pot-a-Tea went on.
He climbed right down that hole and thought, "Well I'll be back by dawn."

He climbed and climbed on down that hole, whipped by chills and freezing rain
"Surely this is not Hell", he thought, "yet causes hellish pain."
He reached the end (or so he thought) and then came into view
quite striking women, 10 in number, who all said, "Who are you?"

Big Damage, I should tell you now, thought himself God's gift,
and seeing all these women here did give him quite a lift.
"Ladies, ladies, ladies, who I am I'll tell you:
I'm the luckiest man alive, and I think that I should like to -"

"Seize him now!" a voice rang out, its source he didn't know.
"And take his eyes right now, this instant, then you'll let him go.
He shall never lead a soul down here, down by our sacred grounds.
Then take him back from whence he came and block the way back down."

Big Damage woke, one sleepy day, surrounded by his friends;
he could not see but by his hearing knew it must be them.
He did not ask what happened, for he knew all too well;
but how to make his friends believe what he had seen in Hell.

"There are women, many women, each more lovely than the last!
The ground is cold, their world is dark, but lord it must be vast.
Dear Pot-a-Tea, dear friend of mine, I know you must believe
that what I say is truthful speak, not meant to mis-deceive."

"Big Damage, friend," said Pot-a-Tea, "I know you speak the truth,
if nothing else my missing eyes I offer you as proof."

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Copyright © 2005-2013 Graham Cranfield