There is a coal house way up north beyond the
backyard gate
Where starlings flock and pigeons cough to welcome
in the day
The sky is dark, the wind is raw as the village
slowly wakes
When men and boys conjoin, in gas-light
haze, to find the colliery gates
Down paths well trod they make their way to mine
the said black gold
And with lamps in hand they wait their turn to descend
the
dank, dark shaft.
This toil is hard and noise is all around as seams
are worked so deep
beneath the ground
The air is thin and chests are tight with choking
dust and grime
But men and boys must carry on until the siren
sounds
With blackened faces out they come to daylight
sharp and bright
And as heavy lungs and tired limbs take their toll
they make their
way back home
And there in the distance shines a light - oh what a
heavenly sight
In the modest home the wife awaits to greet her
grimy man
She too has toiled to make his home a warm and
happy place
With polished range and food to serve she sits
before the embers
And holds their son against her breast with dreams
to be remembered
But for tonight these dreams must wait as she
stokes once more the fire
The latch is lifted and he is home - oh what a
sorry sight
The grubby clothes are peeled away and in the zinc
tub he soaks
Until once more he feels revived and again can live
in hope
Time passes by but this still young man now carries
old man’s bones
and sees through old man’s eyes
At his son he smiles, his pride and joy, and his
schooling paid its worth
For he is leaving soon to follow paths well trod
But not towards the mine thank God
His mother weeps with tears of joy as all her dreams
come true
Her boy is free - no colliery dust for him
but only fields of gold
For Mum
Christmas 2015
Carol Grainger Spalding
