An old Miner, sits by the fireside, <br />Thinking back over the years, <br />The memories, drift upon him, <br />Of the toil, the sweat and the tears. <br /> <br />He started work as a young lad, <br />He wanted to follow his Pa, <br />There was nothing else, the money was good, <br />And he thought it would get him far. <br /> <br />But now nearly fifty years later, <br />After working that big black hole, <br />His lungs are scarred with the memory, <br />Of the dirt and the dust from the coal.<br /><br />Jayne Davies<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-miners-tale/
