They built the halls and weighing rooms
Of millstone grit and avarice.
They birthed the monster, fed its spite,
Then hid it deep beneath the moors
The maze they dug stretched out for miles,
To Yorkshire mills and cotton fields,
To sugar cane and gold and slaves,
Through merchant men and ship-o-line.
And soon there lurked beneath it all
The monster’s barely human form:
The towns and cities bent in smoke,
The fenced and drained, the turned and choked.
Beneath the art the bullets forged,
Beneath the war the moneyed hoard.