I will never get over her loss...not really.

I will never get over her loss...not really.

‘Any old iron’

Drifted along the street

Echoing back off the cobbles

Along with the click clack

Of heavily shod hooves

As the old Shire

Dragged the dirty cart

Between the redbrick

Miners cottages

Fit for working men

With families

One bedroom suits all

The rag’n’bone man

Cherished a tin bath

As indoor plumbing

Began to replace a standpipe

And an outside lav

We ran alongside

Begging for a ride

A stroke of the old beast’s

Shaggy head

If you could give enough

He had goldfish

In a tank on the back

Most of them were dead

Seasick he said

Mum always refused

We could always win one

At the fair

Autumn nights

Illuminating lights

Waltzers and music

A travelling circus

For the workers' entertainment

Whatever happened to

The bearded lady

The two-headed dog

Bonfire night

And spit-roast hog

Sausage in a bun

A festival of fun

Before bedtime

With frost on the windows

And soot on the sill

A shift change

At midnight

The whine

Of the winding wheel

The rumble of the

Coal trucks

The tumble of shale

The shrill blast

Of the siren call

The aching silence

At the pit head

Waiting for news

Of the living and dead

Times

Were never good

Or bad

They were all we had,

To live

Or die

For the sake of the pit

No, life was not good

In truth it was...