Something that will be familiar to many families in Scotland and beyond….
Father was a Miner
My father was a miner,
He worked deep underground;
The rush of drams and clanking chains.
They were his daily sounds.
He worked so far below the ground,
Where coal was hewed by pick,
The work so hard and wages small,
He didn’t dare go sick.
He crawled upon his belly.
In drifts so low and narrow,
The wind it whistled down the shaft.
It chilled him to the marrow.
He ate his food from a Tommy box,
Shaped like a slice of bread,
While squatting down upon the ground,
Where spit and crumbs were shed.
His water, it was in a Jack,
to wet down clouds of dust,
That gathered in his throat and lungs.
Where it formed a deadly crust.
We would listen for his footsteps,
He then come into sight:
This man, our Dad, as black as black,
just like the darkest night;
His bath was always ready,
Set down in front of fire,
My mother then would wash his back,
and tell us to retire;
Right down his back white rivers ran
amongst the dirt and grime,
But you cannot wash away blue scars.
That you get down in the mine.
Years now have passed. My father gone,
But I am proud to say,
My father was a Miner,
Until his dying day.
by William Holman
Featuring Blantyre Project Social Media with permission. Strictly not for use by others on or offline, our visitors said,:
Elaine Speirs Thank you for this.My Pappa was a miner and live din Blantyre. His lungs were severely impacted by the coal dust. Blantyre is built on men like him and the women who kept their families going on so little.
Blantyre Project HI Elaine. I couldn’t agree more. There must be many families out there that this poem will be extremely personal to, even more so at Christmas time, remembering back to those loved ones. Merry Christmas.
Andy Callaghan I’m proud to say my Dad and both my grandfathers worked in the mines. Dad worked in Cardowan for many years before being badly injured in a roof fall in the 60s. Initially we were told he had been killed until one of his workmates who had helped rescue him told us he was in the Royal Infirmary with a suspected broken back. He did eventually recover and walk again but he was never the same man. His lungs were badly damaged by coal dust and he died aged only 64.
Both my grandfathers worked in the mines. Both at cardowan at one time. My grandad and another man were in an accident at cardowan when the roof fell on him. He was trapped doubled over for hours on end. They presumed he was dead as his brother was summoned to the pit head and his neighbour was arranging a lie in as they they thought my grandad wouldnt make it. He survived tho had sugeries and was in hospital a long time. He lived to the age of 80. They are both sorely mossed by all who knew and loved them!! I am so prpud to say my grandads were miners!! x x