HERE'S another disaster poem. As the pictures suggest, it seems to come from a penny songsheet. Whether this was sold to raise money for the bereaved of the Trimdon Grange Colliery Disaster or whether it was just to cash in on the area's sorrowful feeling is unclear.

It is supposed to be sung to the tune of Poor Little Joe, whatever that may be. At first I thought it was cheap doggerel - some might say Barronesque, but I would never be so unkind about my boss - but on second reading, although it goes on and on in a terribly maudlin way, it isn't perhaps as bad as I thought.

Another disaster our ears does assail,

A terrible explosion - a heart-rendering tale.

Fire-damp and gas, which none can forsee,

To many a home has brought sad misery.

At Trimdon Grange Colliery, a few days ago,

An explosion occurred, filling each one with woe.

Many were cheerful that bright afternoon

When the dread sound was heard, filling each home with gloom.

Chorus

At Trimdon Grange Colliery - most sad is the tale

Poor widows and orphans in sorrow bewail.

For those dear ones who're dead now many will mourn,

Seventy poor souls to Eternity gone.

When the fatal explosion it did rent the air,

Poor mothers and children rush'd forth in dispair

To seek for those loved ones who were down below

Most heart-rendering tidings they soon were to know.

"O, where is my husband?" "O, where are my sons?"

The disaster so sudden no warning it gave,

But sent those brave souls to an untimely grave.

Brave men volunteer'd from the collieries around

To bring up the dead from the dark underground,

When they were o'ertaken by the treacherous fire-damp.

In the cold arms of death two were brought up to the bank.

Around the pit mouth many tears then were shed

For the loss of those brave ones now cold and dead.

God help the widows and orphans we pray,

Now the husbands and fathers they have passed away.

Some homes have lost one, and others lost two,

While two mothers miss three sons from their view.

What will they do, now the bread-winners gone.

May Heaven send comfort for those left to mourn.

May those who have plenty bestow a small share

For the fatherless children bowed down in despair.

Their homes once so cheerful with woe does abound

For the memory of those who were killed underground.

There's scarcely a day passes over our head

Without some disaster to fill us with dread.

Brave men cut off in the deep fiery mine

While toiling for bread with no gleam of sunshine.

When the cage is descending they never do know

If alive they'll return or perish below.

When the gas overtakes them they're doomed to die,

All retreat is cut off - escape is not nigh.

May God in His mercy look down from above

And comfort the widows with unbounded love.

For the lost ones there's sorrow, and suffering is great

Lamenting a husband's or son's dreadful fate.

They are gone from this world, their labour is o'er,

Let us hope with bright angels they'll dwell evermore.

The bright word above we hope they do share,

And all rest in Heaven, - there is no parting there!