Dire Catastrophe

Blantyre's Ain Website

Blantyre, Lanarkshire, Scotland

Poems about Miners

Dire Catastrophe

Dire Catastrophe

What means that muffled sound we hear!
The trembling women cry in fear,
What means that smoke from Number Three.
We fear some dire catastrophe.

The pit has blasted. Oh my God!
The women rush along the road
With frantic looks, dishevelled hair,
They wail aloud in their despair.

But soon our clergymen are there,
To soothe them with the voice of prayer,
The only thing to give relief
In this dire spasm of their grief.

At the pit-head such is the shock
That men roll breathless ‘midst the smoke’,
And welter there they know not why,
But feel almost as they would die.

Confusion seizes everyone,
They know not what should first be done,
For Doctor’s rush by road and rail,
But ah! Their skill’s of no avail.

Eight of those gallant men are there,
But soon they look in blank despair;
For ah’ too direful’s been the blast,
For in it human life to last.


Painting by Mark Cox

Elizabeth Bradley: I remember one day my Dad was late coming home and my Mum was worried. We lived in Baird’s Rows at the time and I said to her “the whistle hasn’t gone off so he is alright” and he was. Thank God..


If you have any Poems… Send them to Bill

Blantyre, Lanarkshire, Scotland

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