Ode to diggers

On misty fen and rolling dale
In scorching sun or stinging hail
Trowel and pick in fervent toil
Chop the turf and shift the soil
Tender gropes through peat and lime
Whittle at the Layers of time
Buried deep, the answers wait
Patiently to educate
Eyes of hawk and instinct too
Hunting for that cryptic clue
Bone and flint have tales to tell
Of ancient life on dale and fell
Fractured pot and arrowhead
Evidence of those long dead
Broken skull and charcoal layer
Insurrection! I do declare
But when the sun begins to set
Record the scene lest we forget
Then ardent stride from fell and dale
Coz the last one back has to buy the ale!