Post by dazbt on Oct 29, 2011 5:33:06 GMT -5
Mining Circles
Started in the pit when just a lad
Followed the clogs of my old dad
Loading timber up on top
Ear hole clipped if we tried to stop
When I get coaling in the stalls
Coming back to kick his balls
I didn’t know then about his time
Worked forever at the mine
Buried twice nearly burnt alive
Now teaching skills needed to survive
When as a collier I faced the coal
I realised it had been his only goal
Toughened us up to brave the pain
He knew we’d suffer again and again
Went underground to learn the ropes
That pulled tubs up and darn slopes
Learnt to locker and how to lash
Months dragged by, wish they’d dash
Needed to get to work the coal
To earn the money off a yard high hole
Bored with waiting to use the drill
To stem the holes with Penobel pills
To feel the blast and then taste the dust
To wait for the deputy if I must
Check for misfires and dangerous ground
Shouts us in when nothing found
Set some props and start to slush
Youthful effort won’t control the rush
Worked with men both young and old
Listened to stories as they were told
Heard of days before the electric lamp
Of the butty system and the mottie stamp
When times were hard and the work was rough
But men were made of sterner stuff
Had to listen to youthful bragging
Never praising always slagging
Pints being supped and women loved
How into marriage all were shoved
Over time I slowly knew
That some of these came from me too
Growing old within this hole
Just like a fossil embedded in coal
Fifteen years of resented alteration
Sees us now with mechanisation
Cutter loaders exchanged for muscle
Reduced the effort of a collier’s tussle
Increased production quickly climbing
But the number of pits is now declining
Men who once toiled in sweat and blood
Told it’s now never been so good
Not knowing futures were on hold
Believed just what they were being told
A plot was hatching behind the scenes
Driven by gas and nuclear schemes
An industry doomed by a new beginning
A victim of it’s own upbringing
For a few more years I plodded on
Nice and steady couldn’t go wrong
When lump of stone chose its time to slip
As I went under the ripping lip
Smashed my shoulder and knocked me flat
No hope of face work after that
Eight months later and back to work
Interviewed by the manger and his clerk
You can’t go back to face work lad
Suppose that really I should’ve been glad
But for twenty-five years it’s all I’d known
As a part of me it had slowly grown
The manager suggested a job in the baths
I prayed that there’d be alternate paths
Not quite a cripple but not grade one
I needed a proper job to carry on
The clerk suggested an alternate way
Seemed a good idea and saved the day
The manager agreed and signed me on
Saying try it lad and good luck son
Called me son and called me lad
Did he think he was my dad?
Started Monday feeling out of place
Timber yard, it wasn’t the face
I walked across and inspected the lads
Looked at faces and saw their dads
Lets get one thing straight and clear
.
.
.
Anybody messes and I’ll clip his ear
Started in the pit when just a lad
Followed the clogs of my old dad
Loading timber up on top
Ear hole clipped if we tried to stop
When I get coaling in the stalls
Coming back to kick his balls
I didn’t know then about his time
Worked forever at the mine
Buried twice nearly burnt alive
Now teaching skills needed to survive
When as a collier I faced the coal
I realised it had been his only goal
Toughened us up to brave the pain
He knew we’d suffer again and again
Went underground to learn the ropes
That pulled tubs up and darn slopes
Learnt to locker and how to lash
Months dragged by, wish they’d dash
Needed to get to work the coal
To earn the money off a yard high hole
Bored with waiting to use the drill
To stem the holes with Penobel pills
To feel the blast and then taste the dust
To wait for the deputy if I must
Check for misfires and dangerous ground
Shouts us in when nothing found
Set some props and start to slush
Youthful effort won’t control the rush
Worked with men both young and old
Listened to stories as they were told
Heard of days before the electric lamp
Of the butty system and the mottie stamp
When times were hard and the work was rough
But men were made of sterner stuff
Had to listen to youthful bragging
Never praising always slagging
Pints being supped and women loved
How into marriage all were shoved
Over time I slowly knew
That some of these came from me too
Growing old within this hole
Just like a fossil embedded in coal
Fifteen years of resented alteration
Sees us now with mechanisation
Cutter loaders exchanged for muscle
Reduced the effort of a collier’s tussle
Increased production quickly climbing
But the number of pits is now declining
Men who once toiled in sweat and blood
Told it’s now never been so good
Not knowing futures were on hold
Believed just what they were being told
A plot was hatching behind the scenes
Driven by gas and nuclear schemes
An industry doomed by a new beginning
A victim of it’s own upbringing
For a few more years I plodded on
Nice and steady couldn’t go wrong
When lump of stone chose its time to slip
As I went under the ripping lip
Smashed my shoulder and knocked me flat
No hope of face work after that
Eight months later and back to work
Interviewed by the manger and his clerk
You can’t go back to face work lad
Suppose that really I should’ve been glad
But for twenty-five years it’s all I’d known
As a part of me it had slowly grown
The manager suggested a job in the baths
I prayed that there’d be alternate paths
Not quite a cripple but not grade one
I needed a proper job to carry on
The clerk suggested an alternate way
Seemed a good idea and saved the day
The manager agreed and signed me on
Saying try it lad and good luck son
Called me son and called me lad
Did he think he was my dad?
Started Monday feeling out of place
Timber yard, it wasn’t the face
I walked across and inspected the lads
Looked at faces and saw their dads
Lets get one thing straight and clear
.
.
.
Anybody messes and I’ll clip his ear