It’s been forty years since “Aberfan”,
One hundred and sixteen children
Did not live to be woman or man,
Their fragile bodies broken!
A village fair is Aberfan,
Hid in the Martyrs vales,
Nestled amidst the green and gold
Of beautiful south Wales
But deep beneath her scenery
Lies the diamond black of coal.
To ransom this dark gold they sold
The Merthyr collective soul.
They sunk deep pits in Mother Earth
And mined the coal to sell,
But mines spit more than coal and dust,
Slurry they spit as well.
The garbage rock and dust and dirt
The does not burn is piled,
A blight on verdant pasture that
Is hideous, reviled.
And we all know that slag-heaps move,
We played on them as kids.
Our fathers' would have tanned our hides
If they'd known what we did!