We’d stood on the Picket Lines
The year they killed King Coal,
Saw ex pit villages lose
Their heart and their soul,
And now we are standing
At the doors of the cage
Visiting the pit,
Visitor’s first stage.
lamps and helmets perched on heads
A little lecture before we could go
Through that dark dark shaft
To the old pit way down below
It’s a museum now
Run by ex pit staff
I was not the only one
Forcing a nervous laugh.
I don’t suppose we went so deep
It just Took longer than expected
And I suppose the parts we saw
Were safe and specially selected,
But it was a darkness
That ate into the mind
Bringing on the horrors
Of being struck blind.
Many were killed and many maimed
The price of each life being cheap
And then for economic expediency
All were thrown on the scrap heap
But here men had worked
Body and soul
Dragging from the earth
Old King Coal
I couldn’t believe that
Three hours had passed
When we left the pit cage
Back to the world at last.
Never again will I visit
Sich a cold dark place;
When it comes my time to die
Let it be with sunshine on my face.