Hard Lines

There's sad distress in Bear Park and Ushaw Moor too.

There's willing hands to labour but can't find work to do.

The men are standing idle, I can hear as I pass by,

Each man to his neighbour say: "When will the clouds roll by?"

We'll put our heads together and do our very best

To entertain you here tonight with sentiment and jest.

We know you are downhearted and often sit and sigh

And say among each other: "When will the clouds roll by?"

Our cupboards they are empty, our clothes are wearing thin.

We want a dress for Polly, a suit for little Tim.

To get boots for the kiddies our hardest we do try,

But still we say each coming day: "When will the clouds roll by?"

The parents do appreciate those acts of kindness shown

Where there's a few young children in one poor miner's home.

To know their little feet are warm, the tears come in their eyes

And pray both night and morning the clouds would soon roll by.

The cold days they are drawing near, the nights are getting dark,

The grate is often empty and not one single spark

To boil our pans and kettles, it makes the mothers sigh

And often sit and wonder: "When will the clouds roll by?"

And still we will not give up hope however hard we're pressed.

We will help one another and God will do the rest.

For he will not forsake us when he hears the children cry,

But look down from his home above and sweep the dark clouds by.

So now kind friends I'll say adieu I can no longer stay.

Goodnight to all both great and small, I'll come another day

And if you like my verses they are within your reach.

We will have them printed and sell at a penny each.

Composed by Jane Jolly of Ushaw Moor during the miners' stroke, year 1926.

Gladys Tidbury, Pity Me.

Scratches

She sat at ease upon my knee

A ball of purring fur.

She laid on her back in ecstasy

As I tickled her.

Her eyes were bright and full of fun

She pawed the empty air.

Then, suddenly, she scratched my hand.

And the blood was there.

She did not know the pain she caused

Continuing her game.

But I felt betrayed and rather cross

She had caused me pain.

I put on my coat and donned a hat

One I thought quite chic.

Went for a stroll to the corner shop

Some fruit to pick.

A friend passed by, then stopped to talk.

She laughed at me and said:

"Good gracious me, whatever's that you've

Got upon your head?"

And I felt betrayed and rather cross

She caused me pain.

"Funny," I thought. "I've been hurt

Mindlessly again."

I turned for home and something fell

Landing at my feet.

'Twas the cross I wore about my neck

With chain complete.

As I stooped to pick it up

A truth struck home.

How many times do we, thoughtless hurt

With careless tongue.

I prayed a prayer right there and then,

"Oh! Dear Lord guard my tongue,

Help me think before I speak

And utter something wrong,

Give me the heart of Jesus,

His gentle hands,

Then shall I share love's deepest truths,

Then shall I understand."

Fran Vincent, Skeeby, Richmond.

Every Little Thing

When you have had heartache, trouble or pain

It always feels good just to come back again.

Dawn after darkness is always so sweet

Simple things make you feel so complete.

To wake to a smile from your wife and your son

Getting ready for work can seem much more fun.

The bus ride is better when people are smiling

And in your head there are plans for compiling.

You walk in the coffee shop thinking of food

That gorgeous cooked breakfast makes you feel so good,

And set you right up for the long day ahead

For you are so lucky when you are well fed.

Then you can look forward to getting back home

Another day's work that's been happily done.

Another great meal that's been cooked by your wife

It's the little things that's the key to this life.

Kissing your child as he goes off to sleep

And you know that tonight you'll be not counting sheep.

Cuddle up later on the settee

Chilling out with some evening TV.

A lovely glass of warm red wine

There's nothing helps more to make you feel fine.

Read a good book, then you turn out the light

Today has been better, thank you and goodnight.

Jeff Storey, Blackhall Colliery.

The Ring

I brought her flowers, that cold February day.

A gruff: "What's the point? She doesn't know we're here."

Then she turns and smells the bunch of May.

Oh why does she have to die this woman (grandmother) so dear.

I think she's gone, but it's best to ask.

Do you want the ring? It's yours now, lass.

She'd worked all her life; hard, honest tasks.

Remember me. I'll not let you pass.

She'd tended graves for a long time now,

Neatly clipped Christmases, births and deaths.

There was simply the silence, no screaming row.

Her only son, his daughter and her dying breaths.

No need to care and clip and tend

She was scattered, her ashes sifting through the land.

A good innings; high tea, a day to send.

My lasting thoughts; her ringless hand.

Dorothy Wilson, Romanby.

A Bluebell Paradise

A carpet of bluebells at my feet,

The singing of birds, I am complete.

The lovely fresh green of the trees all around.

The presence of God, simple, profound.

The cool air in my face

In this heavenly place.

And I am a child of The King

In a palace supreme,

And this is reality, as passing dream.

The worldly pleasures which money can buy

Are as nought compared with this clear blue sky.

For God is extravagant, wonderful too,

'Cos he gives and He gives for me and for you.

He multiplies everything, 'tis His joy and our pleasure,

And at the end of our walk there is lasting true treasure.

There is a place with the King, to live evermore,

And reunions with those who've gone on before.

So I live for each moment, relax in His love

Knowing 'tis but a foretaste of heaven above.

Elizabeth Tomlinson, Richmond.

Creepy Crawlies Everywhere

Mini-beasts in our world,

Far too many to count.

You'll always find locusts

Gathered in a large amount.

Ants live in a colony.

They bite and are really mean.

They like sugary food

Which they use to feed their queen.

Hard-backed, scuttling beetles

Dancing along the ground

With six legs and two antennae

And a shiny body that's round.

Honey bees from a hive,

Buzzing everywhere,

Collecting nectar and pollen,

Then flying through the air.

Spiders with sticky webs.

People hate them the most,

Hiding in dark corners,

They scream, like they've seen a ghost.

Black and yellow wasps

Searching for ripe plums,

Don't touch them! They'll sting

Your fingers, arms and thumbs.

My teachers knows the facts,

We're studying them at school.

Some of them may sting you

But they're harmless as a rule.

Next time you find an insect,

Don't splat it with your powers,

God gave them a purpose;

To pollinate our flowers.

Timothy Jasper, Sedgefield.