With their lamps at their side,
Still weary and tired,
From the previous shift,
Hence they came,
Old Dai and Will,
They trudged that steep hill,
A familiar sight every day.
To the old village mine,
Faced with dirt, muck and grime,
Was the heart, the life and the soul,
Of the place they were born,
Where many had mourned,
For the sad loss of life digging coal.
But with young mouths to feed,
The mine was their need,
So life at the pit carried on,
For this was their life,
On their way home to wife,
They would finish their shift with a song!
Jayne Louise Davies
Another good write Honorable Poet. Working in the coal mine was hard grueling and dirty work. The men who did this kind of work had to care for their families. They would give all they got to do this and be happy about it. Enjoyed!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Extremely well written! A magnificent poem....just beautiful.