I thought that we might win
Even after we’d been called
The enemy within.
But the tide just turned against us
It seems that blood and coal
Were bound in hellish partnership
To keep us from our goal
To keep us from our goal.
There was a moment as we marched back
With the colliery band in front
Some said we’d been defeated
But it felt as if we’d won.
All on account of the cheering
The music and the crowd
Back to the pit with tears and smiles
Bloodied but unbowed
Bloodied but unbowed.
There were months as the scars healed up
Things didn’t seem so bad
Thursday nights in the band room
And a few beers with the lads.
I told our lass it would be all right
As hope replaced despair
And the band pumped reassurance
Into the summer air
Into the summer air.
On Thursdays now I go to town
And spend most of the dole
Loading the shopping trolley
Instead of trucks with coal.
I see the lads in the band room
But less of us meet there
While the band breaks up all around us
And nobody seems to care
And nobody seems to care.
I’ve spent months now the music’s gone
Gazing at the mine
The rust that creeps across the plant
Like a dullness in the mind.
The gates are closed, the shops are shut
Our very jobs they stole
The band room’s just a shell that keeps
An echo of our soul
An echo of our soul.
Contributed by Bernart Bartleby - 2017/1/11 - 21:28
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