In the heart of the earth, where the shadows sleep,
Three old cavers dig, in the caverns deep.
Brian, Peter, and Nigel, with hands worn and rough,
Their backs bent by time, yet their spirits tough.
Brian hums softly, his lantern held high,
The glow of its flame flickers, shy.
His shovel digs deep where the echoes stay,
Whispers of ages long swept away.
Peter, with wisdom in his steady stride,
Marks the old maps, where secrets hide.
His lantern flickers like a fading star,
Guiding their path through the cave's cold scar.
Nigel, the quiet one, with a chisel's grace,
Carves the stone like it’s a tender embrace.
He dreams of the treasures that might be found,
In this ancient world beneath the ground.
The earth sighs softly, its voice so old,
As they dig for the stories the dark has told.
A century of time, but their hearts remain young,
Digging through history with their voices unsung.
Through tunnels that twist, through chambers wide,
They dig, with the quiet persistence of the tide.
Three cavers, old but bold, chasing the dark,
Each strike of their tools, a whisper, a spark.
And as the dust rises, so do their dreams,
A bond between men and the cave's quiet schemes.
Brian, Peter, and Nigel, with their hands in the clay,
Digging through time, with the earth as their stay.
