An old Coal Miner speaks

  Press play. Salute.

(A lone voice whispers)

I leave this

I leave this

My beloved song written by my old shaking hand

Now I'm ninety-three

For my children and grandchildren to see

For soon I'll be with my wife and their mother

My beloved Annabel Lee

A song so they can always remember

That I've climbed into all sorts of dirty pits

Starting so many years ago

When Ma gave me my first snap box and sent me to work in late December

When at fourteen  

I got one of my many work permits

And since that first day, I've scrubbed for hours

To clean my decent, hard-working soul

To be healthy for my family before I went home

After spending all day and night

Just digging deep for black coal

I was born just before gas was crowned as king, and all generations went into the pit

Like all baptised to do so before us  

If we were forced to admit it

Men and boys who we soon knew forever would be our kin

Going into the light or darkness to earn a few bob

Following all our own fathers and grandfathers

When our time too came  

  

When they asked casually over breakfast

Are you ready, son

And we all replied over hot coffee with a silent nod

Remember me

My name was Samus O'Mally

From God's Country  

In County Donegal

Where we chased the mad black stuff like it was our lives' bounty

Those courageous, strong Irish men

Who, like me, when we heard the call

Willingly sacrificed our brief lives

Chasing fools' black gold

So all our families could eat and be insulated from all weathers 

But particularly the cold

Until it, 

Black Coal's ghost

Finally stalked us down wherever we lived and hid like a wild hyena

Rewarding us with a fatal kiss for years of servitude and service

With a black medal in the lung, called after something so tragic 

I now know as simply emphysema

To then stand watching us all silently but bravely 

Fight its deadly embrace as we all grew old

Coughing up blood like we were living in Hiroshima

Forever now just tainted like so many others from brave fathers and mothers

For foolishly chasing the glories and stories linked with mining black gold  

So their families could stay warm and conquer the cold

I'm just one of the lucky ones who, through the Lord's blessings

Managed to grow old

Just remember me when I rejoin the fold

Digging for black gold

Copyright John Duffy