Dust-To-Dust, Coal- To- Coal, Dust-To-Dust, And Back- To- Coal, Again
White Tin Hat, Whites Of Eyes, Smiling Eyes -Always Smiling Even In The Dark – A Shining Twinkle That Even The Pitch Black, Black Of A Coal Hole Cavern Earth Of A Devil’s Home Cannot Dim
A Thankless Filthy Dangerous Job – Nobody Cares Or Looks After Him
Glinting, Worn To A Shine Knee- Pads.Glinting Tin Snap Box Bate Dangling From His Thick Leather Belt There To Keep His Trousers Up Or Double Up As The Strap – Belt Of Law And Order In His Home To Keep His Head Lamp Company And His Kids In Line – Tough Love – Eyes Like A Giant Pander Black With Dust Down, Round And Above
Everywhere, In The Deep Valley Cracks Of His Strong Face Tells His Tale – His Strong Hands Like Shovels Black And Wave A Home Salute To His Throng
As He Appears At The Door To Shed The Dust And Ease The Toil
Wife A-Comes A-Smiling Bringing Water Clean And Hot And To The Boil
Treated Like A Cart Horse Lackey By Churchill, Like A Piece Of Black Dirt By Thatcher Who Ground Him Into To Black Dust For Wont Of A Social Doctrinal Mess. Her Message? She Killed Him Dead – As If No Matter –
His Communities Beaten Into Submission – Just Left To Scatter
And A Generation On? They Only Now Wonder And Lament
As They Hurried To Tipple The Shafts Full Of White, Hard Cement
Yes, They Got It Wrong, They Usually Do – And Wished They Had Not Buried His Light And His Lamp –For Them, Only Tools Of A Working Class Lad
They Dared To Treat The Coal Miner As Pick And Shoval Fodder
But Now They Run Scared Of The New World Fuel – Energy Order
And Wish They Had Not Seen The Black, Black Coal Dust Miner
As An Underground Mole.Nothing But A Dust Laden Tramp – When We All Knew, As Did Prime Minister Macmillan, Too, That There Are, ‘No Men, Anywhere, That Are Finer’.
So.Hail, Hail The Dust-To-Dust, Coal-To-Coal, Black, Black Dirt
Polish The Tin Hat, Recharge The Lamp, Iron A Thick Corse Shirt
Pack His Snap-Box Bait, Pull The Knee-Pad Strap Up Fast ‘n Tight
Our Shining Miners Shovel Is Happy To Hew Coal All Through The Night
Roll Out The Trundling Pit Props Once Again
Strip T’ut Waist, Toil The Sweat, Forget The Pain
These Fine Men Will Dig Their Hearts Out – They Will Never Hide
Just To Have Their Communiuties Back Again, – And Let Their Souls Sing With Pride.
