THE MINER

I will tell you a story of a man, who as been put down, of a
poor bastard who worked in a hole in the ground.
It was dark and it was dirty, a dismal old well, as near as the living get to the torment of hell.
To work on the coal face his ambition in life, to bring home more money for the kids and the wife.
The reward that he got for doing his best,
a ton of coal per month and the dust on his chest.
But in later years no promotion he found, and his wages decreased underground.
The dust on his chest, the phlegm and catarrh, the back ache, the cuts, that familiar blue scar.
At the end of his days there is no reward for his task,
the coal board provide him an oxygen mask.
Now broken and gasping from his lifetime of coal, born in a time when there was but coal or dole.
Such were his earnings from his labour of love
that he is dead and buried below to provide coal up above.

Anthony Davies


THE KINGS OF COAL

You old Kings of coal
you stole our men`s souls
And filled their lungs with dust
No care for them who worked below
Your ways were so unjust!

While you lavished in your stately homes
Our families lived in hovels
You dined on the best of food and wine
They were made to grovel

Your pit ponies had much better lives
than our men, their children and their wives
The ponies hardly saw the light of day
But they didn`t have to fight for better pay.

You sent my father to an early grave
For years he suffered, yet so brave
He was only fifty six when he died
Leaving our family, who morned and cried.

We are so proud of our Mining Men
The like of which we`ll never see again
They are our past, they are our roots
The youth of today won`t come up to their boots

You old Kings of Coal
You have no souls
Your hearts were made of stone
Our miners may have lost the fight
but you lost your throne.

Mary Wheeler
2007

BELOW THE GROUND

There is another world below the ground.
There is another world where darkness reigns

There is another world below ground
where noise is different.
Unfamiliar.

Everywhere is heard small stones dropping.
Pneumatic machinery apopping.
And cold steel hatchets achopping

The dust down here is thick and black.
Sweaty clothes and dirty black faces.
I think of women in pure white laces.

The shift is done,
And out we go laughing,
Joking.

For tonight we have a merry time.
Then tomorrow back down the mine.

David Tapper 1967

Seeking Promotion

It is strange that we all miss the days we spent underground
It`s strange that a man could miss the coal dust all around
As a boy i felt that other jobs were never to be had
my destiny was set for me i would be a miner like dad.

The first day in the pit was a day of excitement and of shock
Dust and sweat filled the air amongst the black coal and rock
The headings and the coalface, the roadways in and out
The noise of blasting and machinery where every one must shout.

I found pride in the job I did and worked to make my mark
To be promoted to the coalface where the dust was thick and black
Or to work in hard headings and maybe break my back
All of these are my options to get promoted in the pit
But you`re demoted very quickly if you are hurt or sick.

The harder that you work and the longer that you stay
The sicker that you get, and the less they want to pay
In every job and every thing that other people do
The system promotes and progresses them as they travel through
Not so in a colliery they treat you like a horse
With lots of hay, if you can work all day
But then they will kill a willing horse.

so for those of us, who made it out, let us not feel to sad?
Lets work where the roof cannot cave in, and the air is not foul or bad
Let the world now take advantage of others far away
An invisible face, in an unknown place, the price of coal must pay.

An industry was decimated because the price of coal high
Not enough to breathe the dust, not enough to die.
The cheek of us to ask to be paid, to go down and risk our life
Th cheeky greedy miner, who wants some money for his strife
Now put out all your cigarettes and don`t contaminate the air
Forget the greedy miner who lived with coal dust everywhere.

Anthony Davies.

HOW MUCH DO THEY WANT

How much do they want?
A lot more than you can give boys
they`ve had your blood
They`ve had your sweat
Now they want your pride

How much do they want?
At least before, you could transfer
To another pit boys
But not anymore
Now there`s only the TOWER left
Where to from here

How much do they want?
They want your signiture, boys
But once you sign remember,
Your just a number to them
Do they care what happens now, boys
Now you`ve been paid off

How much do they want?
What else can you give boys
You`ve given your blood
You`ve given your sweat
You`ve given your life to the COAL BOARD
And they took it.

The Lad

They brought him up the pit shaft
And took him out off the cage
His face was covered with coal dust
they could not tell his age

In fact he was a young lad
On his first day down the pit,
he did not hear the noises
Just before the pit prop split

Down came the roof and crushed him,
Against the stone hard floor
Squeezing out a young life,
That would run and laugh no more

Who would tell his mother?
Who would tell his dad?
That the coal had claimed another
And this one just a lad

Author Unknown

How Dark?

How dark was it down there in that coal mine?
How could you tell night from day?
I know that you faced a lot of danger,
Working down there so I could play.

You never complained, not once about it,
Even though it wasn't your first choice,
I hope you can hear me now, Dad?
I hope that you can hear my voice?

Oh how I hate that pit you worked in,
I hate everything its done to you,
I hope you can hear how much I love you,
There is so little I can do.

I know that soon you have to leave me,
Pray God it's better for you there, and you'll be treated well,
You don't deserve the pain you've gone through,
You didn't deserve that time in hell.

Oh how I hate that pit you worked in,
I hate everything its done to you,
I hope you can hear how much I love you,
There is so little I can do.

I pray you hear each word I've spoken,
I pray you hear each word I've said,
It brings me to tears to see you broken,
Lying so limp on that sickbed.

Oh how I hate that pit you worked in,
I hate everything its done to you,
I hope you can hear how much I love you,
There is nothing I can do.
Love you Dad.
© Bill Riley

MINERS


The work was hard and the conditions were grim,
Body upheld by water-bottle and 'snappin-tin'.
Cages controlled by the winding-gear,
Descended the shaft each day, month and year.

The journey was to the levels, seam and face,
Into a hot, dirty and dangerous place.
The tools of the trade were a shovel and pick,
If the props gave way you had to be quick.

Accident, injury and sometimes death,
Dust and fumes with every breath.
Illumination provided by helmet and lamp,
Canaries were used to detect the fire-damp.

Payments sometimes measured by the yard,
No quarter given when times were hard,
Comrades and friends showered together,
At the pit-head baths whatever the weather.

Florence, Mossfield, Hanley and Hem Heath,
Yielded black diamonds from deep beneath.
Explosions and water had to be borne,
Tragedy for those left behind to mourn.

Lung disease still wreaks its deadly toll,
Of the men and boys who toiled down the hole.


A.J.Mountford