By Tanaka Togara & Ian Chauke
In the heart of the Earth, where treasures do sleep,
A calculative process, a promise we keep.
With pickaxes swinging and drills set to dine,
The art of extracting, we simply call mining.
Investors, all eager, with dollar signs bright,
Turn to geologists to shed them some light.
“Gold in them hills!” the reports start to sprout,
Investors cheer loudly, “That’s what we’re about!”
Mining engineers, with calculators so bold,
Dream of the tonnage that mines will unfold.
Surveyors with compasses, precise in their craft,
Plot the coordinates for a profitable draft.
The orebody’s position, a crucial big deal,
Dictates how we dig and the way that we peel.
Investment’s allure, with confidence brimming,
Proven or probable, keeps wallets all grinning.
Development begins, to the orebody we steer,
With bulldozers roaring and dynamite near.
Mine planners sketch plans with meticulous flair,
Ensuring dilution ratios are handled with care.
Strategic blueprints and daily reports,
Keep planners on track, in all their cohorts.
Run-of-mine ore, to the processor flushed,
Where crushers and grinders reduce it to dust.
Screening and milling, expanding the space,
Increasing surface area, at a feverish pace.
Flotation’s magic, hydrophobic delight,
Separates minerals in a bubbly flight.
With moisture reduced, the ore’s feeling dry,
Ready for burning, we wave it goodbye.
The separation dance, it continues with glee,
Until pure recovery is something we see.
I love mining, from shaft to the shaft,
From core samples’ depths to the geological draft.
With laughter and grit, we conquer the land,
Mining’s our mission, so grand and so grand!
