Bing , an old English/SCOTISH word meaning a spile heap or slag heap. Waist from a coal mine.
May be the spirit's of long dead miners now live on in such rare beauty
Wear once men workde down in the dark of mouther nature's bowls
A place where men workde so hard , death never far away , where a man
Could be heart , loose a finger arm or leg , brake his back lungs encased in coal
And Stone dust, hearing damaged , dead mans fingers et all
The colliery , a community once thrived , now no more , now in to history
Now no man works down that whole , no more proudly a working collier's
Now those that were pitman , are fading away , coughing up their lungs
Fewer and fewer as the grim reaper tacks his due of the lads
The last of a way of life , fade a way
Now the cold wind sweeps over the bing , blowing the dust and what not
Around and around that bing , dusting the rare orchids black and gray
The rain , the tears of the suffering miners and their kin , of those who died
Down that bloody hole that unforgiving bloody hell hole
Yet when it closet , grown hard men crude as they remembered the good
Times shared , the many laughs enjoyed , the pals who died
Thourt of the comradeship , the camaraderie , that were never be enjoyed
Againe
The winding gear toppled in indessant hast , the pit building bulldozed to
Till only the bing remained , rough grass grow , rude trees to and of course
The rare orchid Young's Helleberine by name now grow.
Ken D Williams ( THE DYSLEXIC POET )
ALL RIGHTS RESERVDE
Poetry by ken d williams
Read 642 times
Written on 2007-11-06 at 23:22
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
NOW RARE ORCHIDS GROW UPON THE OLD PIT BING
Now orchids grow upon the bing of a long dead Sottish coal mineMay be the spirit's of long dead miners now live on in such rare beauty
Wear once men workde down in the dark of mouther nature's bowls
A place where men workde so hard , death never far away , where a man
Could be heart , loose a finger arm or leg , brake his back lungs encased in coal
And Stone dust, hearing damaged , dead mans fingers et all
The colliery , a community once thrived , now no more , now in to history
Now no man works down that whole , no more proudly a working collier's
Now those that were pitman , are fading away , coughing up their lungs
Fewer and fewer as the grim reaper tacks his due of the lads
The last of a way of life , fade a way
Now the cold wind sweeps over the bing , blowing the dust and what not
Around and around that bing , dusting the rare orchids black and gray
The rain , the tears of the suffering miners and their kin , of those who died
Down that bloody hole that unforgiving bloody hell hole
Yet when it closet , grown hard men crude as they remembered the good
Times shared , the many laughs enjoyed , the pals who died
Thourt of the comradeship , the camaraderie , that were never be enjoyed
Againe
The winding gear toppled in indessant hast , the pit building bulldozed to
Till only the bing remained , rough grass grow , rude trees to and of course
The rare orchid Young's Helleberine by name now grow.
Ken D Williams ( THE DYSLEXIC POET )
ALL RIGHTS RESERVDE
Poetry by ken d williams
Read 642 times
Written on 2007-11-06 at 23:22
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
|
Stan Cooper |
