MY DAD
My dad was a miner, who mined for coal
He worked forty years down a stinking black hole.
With hand pick and shovel stripped bare to the waist
He laid on his side, in a three-foot coalface.
Sweating his guts out for just a few bob
Five long days a week he spent on the job.
Till one day he came home on the old paddy mail
His energy sapped and his face deathly pale.
He had seen his best mate get killed by a prop
And that’s when his pit job came to a sudden full stop.
With tears in his eyes he told his best mates wife
That her loving husband, had just lost his life.
It broke my dad’s heart and he had to resign
And that was the last time he went down a mine.
By
Alfred Weston
© Copyright Reserved 2003
My dad was a miner, who mined for coal
He worked forty years down a stinking black hole.
With hand pick and shovel stripped bare to the waist
He laid on his side, in a three-
Five long days a week he spent on the job.
Till one day he came home on the old paddy mail
His energy sapped and his face deathly pale.
He had seen his best mate get killed by a prop
And that’s when his pit job came to a sudden full stop.
With tears in his eyes he told his best mates wife
That her loving husband, had just lost his life.
It broke my dad’s heart and he had to resign
And that was the last time he went down a mine.
By
Alfred Weston
© Copyright Reserved 2003
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