I lived in a pit village, and worked the old mine,
Me and Bill, a pony; worked together some time,
The workload was heavy, but Bill lightened my load,
As daily for years, we drove the main road.
 
One day in September i had a terrible fright,
We were on our way out when we stopped for a bite,
I sat on the seat which i did every shift,
There at the bottom, of McMillan's drift.
 
Yes, I'd sat there daily for a number of years,
Where i gave Bill an apple and tickled his ears,
He'd nuzzle my tin box, for a sandwich he ate,
I didn't mind, 'cause he was my mate.
 
But this day was different, he wouldn't stand still,
So i held out the apple and said, “Come on Bill”
No notice he took and moved further away;
Something was bothering old Bill today.
 
I left my snap tin right there on the seat,
And went with the apple to give Bill his treat,
He snorted then, and moved further still,
Grabbing his bridle, i tried to hold Bill.
 
He was too strong! He dragged me, at least fifteen yards,
Old Bill must have known, what lay in the cards,
When he stopped i listened, couldn't hear a sound,
As i remember that day at the mine underground.
 
He turned and just looked at me, then gave a short neigh,
We went another few yards, when the roof came away,
Rocks came tumbling with the sound of thunder,
The seat i had moved from ripped asunder.
 
I shall never forget that fateful day,
When Bill wouldn't be still, and he dragged me away,
He saved my life, of that there's no doubt,
If it wasn't for Bill, they'd have carried me out.
 
I still see Bill daily, when we meet and we greet,
For Bill lives in a field now, just down my street,
I stand and i talk, and i tickle his ears,
Then i thank him with an apple, for the extra years.