They travelled each day to the depths of the mine,
That dark, dusty place where the sun wouldn't shine.
Cutting for coal on the solid face wall,
Risking their lives, giving their all.
Ignoring the wrath of the mines fatal dust,
Labouring hard, for a well earned crust,
A job handed down, through each generation,
In a village where mining, was their sole inspiration.
But many years later, the dust from the coal,
Would come back to haunt, to lay rest on their souls,
The mines of the valleys, now lie empty and bare,
But there's many a town has a story to share.
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