A Way Of Life
With their lamps at their side,
Still weary and tired,
From the previous shift,
Hence they came,
Old Dai and Will,
They trudged that steep hill,
A familiar sight every day.
To the old village mine,
Faced with dirt, muck and grime,
Was the heart, the life and the soul,
Of the place they were born,
Where many had mourned,
For the sad loss of life digging coal.
But with young mouths to feed,
The mine was their need,
So life at the pit carried on,
For this was their life,
On their way home to wife,
They would finish their shift with a song!
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