Digging For Coal
Down they went every day,
To the bowels of the earth for meagre pay.
They dug for coal to earn a crust;
They had no choice - it was a must,
For our's was a mining town
And, man and boy, they all went down
In cages, to a world so black,
With pick and shovel, and a lack
Of any decent air to breathe.
For hours on end they'd haul and heave,
In conditions hard to contemplate,
But they did it for it was their fate.
When, at last, they'd done their shift,
They were transported by the lift
Back up to the world so bright,
Shielding their eyes from the fierce daylight,
And coughed up all the cruel pit dust
That had seeped into their very soul -
the men who risked their lives each day,
In the name of coal.
​
By Delia Bennett
His Reward
My dad worked down a coal-mine
For fifty-two long years.
Quite a 'pleasant' occupation
If you liked blood, sweat and tears.
He had his share in injuries;
A pittance was his pay,
Yet back he'd trudge to that dark hole
Every single day.
But, at last came the retirement
That he'd been waiting for,
And for fifty-two years service,
Appreciation lay in store.
He was really well rewarded
For a life on the coal-face,
A chromium-plated pocket watch
In a little pastic case!
​
By Delia Bennett