No!
No!
No dust or red rust will cover my pride,
The pride for my mates, that I keep deep inside,
No years and no tears will wash that away,
It is locked, in my heart, and there it will stay.
No age will assuage, my love for my mates,
I will take it, with me, far beyond, heaven’s gates,
No throne and no crown will ever replace,
The blackened big grin, on a coal miner’s face.
No hand, in the land, would I trust, more than these,
Who worked with me there, on our own ‘hands and knees’,
No champagne, or cognac, would taste ever so fine,
As the swig from a bottle, deep down in the mine.
No sainthood, or touch of Her Majesty’s sword,
No medal, or title, or other award,
No millionaire’s money, or gold by the ‘gram’,
Would I exchange for my time, as a mining man!
Mick
( Copyright Michael Westwood 2015 )
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