.
He sits in the parlour
playing old-time fiddle
singing songs of the mines
with a voice so true
.
Do they hear him?
The tunnels below?
The multitude of miners?
The ones who didn’t come home?
.
He sings of hardship
of tunnel collapse
of injury and blackness
of dying and turning to coal
.
I hear it echo
in the underground shafts
down a misty alley
among crooked shacks
.
He sings of resilience
of carrying on
of camaraderie
and perseverance
.
Do they hear him?
The tunnels below?
The multitude of miners?
The ones who didn’t come home?
.
He sings of suffering for all
of mothers and children
thrown out on the street
soon as Pa was no more
.
I hear it echo
in the underground shafts
down a misty alley
among crooked shacks
.
An age old story
of mining black gold
of extracting riches
for another to hold
.
He sits in the parlour
playing old-time fiddle
singing songs of the mines
with a voice so true
.
Do they hear him?
The tunnels below?
The multitude of miners?
The ones who didn’t come home?
.
By Carys Owen
Inspired by the band ‘The Fly Smackers’
who played at the Woodstove Festival 2024
in Cumberland BC
Carys Owen Poetry 