The Pit

Last day at school, no more to learn the
golden rule.
The headmaster wishes us all well
Before we left to go down into the
bowels of hell.
Ten boys met at the shaft head that
afternoon
In a bright day’s light before we
descended into the dark of the night.
At the bottom of the shaft the cage
doors opened
To a world of darkness and fear, dust,
heat, sweat and tears.
We stood in awe of the experience.
“Come on lads I’ll show you what you’ll
be doing on Monday”
A sigh of relief went round the group as
a voice in the dark held a lamp.
As we walked through the pit we heard
the sounds of picks and shovels
Pit ponies on the wagon ways, men and
boys pushing tubs,
The creak of beams and the clouds of
black dust.
We passed some men sitting getting
their bait.
A voice said: “Want a drink of water
lads?”
Then from the dark appeared a
blackened face and a familiar smile.
“It’s my Dad”. A sense of calm came
over me
To know he was at hand
That Friday afternoon trip into the world
of the Durham miner.
Laid the ground for my working life of
51 years in the pit.
From the ten that went down that
afternoon
Only four would see retirement.
Two were killed in a roof fall, four by the
black lung.
Now the four that are left walk the green
fields
And reminisce of that Friday afternoon
When we went down as boys and came
back as men.