Coal Miner

His back was bent from toil,
The miner from the coal pit face.
He worked well below the soil,
For coal to warm the human race.

His skin is marked with blue scars,
Lungs filled with dust that kills.
Sometimes he drank in local bars,
To forget the need to pay his bills.

When the seam of coal is bright,
And the pick and shovel swing.
He works both by day and night,
Good money home to bring.

As the seam of coal comes slowly to an end,
His worries increase as on his belly he works.
His clothes in despair he does not rend,
For that is one of life’s quirks.

Methane gas can explode or the roof fall in,
Water can flood drowning many a stout heart.
But coal must fill the households bin,
There are widows from the start.

So when you next burn coal,
Think of the lives that were lost,
For mines take their toll,
At a fearsome dreadful cost.

Bernard Shaw

Painting Source: Trio of miners by Valerie Ganz

Carla Kuijpers: Those were hard times!!!

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If you have any Poems… Send them to Bill

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