There was a colliery in Pelton Fell,
Next to the homes that the miners did dwell.
The trucks rolled down to Stella Gill,
Those wagons were filled by the miners' skill.
In 12 hour shifts they hewed at the seams,
They expected nothing, but still held their dreams.
Their children scampered between those rail lines,
Playing their games of sixes and nines.
The caged canaries blinked in the sunlight,
When they closed the pit at the Pelton site.
The Tallyman was the one who was counted last,
For The Mining Industry is now framed in the past.
They hold a Gala in Durham each year,
The flags and banners they proudly do bare.
They march behind their Colliery Band,
Their heads held high as they pass The Grand.
There now are museums that regale their story,
There have been plenty of disasters, but not much glory.
There was no glamour in mining for coal,
It broke their backs and it crushed their soul.
Those miners were exploited and deprived of trust,
Their gain from labour was lungs full of dust.
The cost of coal was more than it was worth,
For the Durham miners, it was Hell on Earth.