Coal

COAL

Coal

I was born in a small mining village,
in the year of 69,
I grew up on a poor council estate
when my father worked down the mines,

He use to come home late at night
and be as black as coal,
He use to say to our dear mom,
my sons won’t work down a hole,

But as the years slowly passed
and money got really tight,
I started working in the mines
because surviving was such a fight,

I was only twelve when I first went down
inside that deep dark hole,
And I understand now why miners say
it leaves its mark upon your soul,

I was really frightened then,
being twelve and just a little boy,
I never grew up like other kids,
playing with kiddie’s toys,

As the years passed,
I worked hard trying to make a buck,
Going underground every day
digging coal and shovelling muck,

This is no way for us to live,
I heard the miners say,
It didn’t really matter what they thought,
they had no choice, they had to stay,

If they wanted food and they wanted money
they had to do what they were told,
That’s the way it was back then
until the mines began to fold,

With all the mines closing down in the valleys,
under ground we’d go no more,
People started moving out of the valleys,
they had no choice they had go,

My father was one he did not go,
he stayed and did his best,
That was very many years ago now,
now he deserves a rest,

As for me I moved on,
to look for a better life,
I moved to a town met a girl
and she became my wife,

Things have really changed
since the days of mines and coal,
But I swear it’s left its mark
on every miner’s soul.

Karl A Hunter (Glynneath)

Oil Painting by Valerie Ganz

~~~

If you have any Poems… Send them to Bill

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