Never Forget

In the South Wales Valleys in the 21st century we never thought we'd be hearing about mining tragedies ever again, but sadly this past week the tragedies of the past came back to haunt us. Four miners from the Gleision Mine, in the Swansea Valley, lost their lives in a mining accident, and now their families and friends face dark days ahead as they come to terms with the tragedy. One of the miners was from within my own community, and his family was at the church service this morning.

The community has rallied around the family and it has undoubtedly affected people in many different ways; prays have been said, tributes have been written, flowers have been prepared and money has been raised. At yesterday's Neath R.F.C. match against Newport R.F.C. over £500 alone was raised in the main stand, with still more money to come from the Shed End.

Like many people in South Wales I come from a mining family, with many of my descendents miners, often coming into South Wales to join the search for black gold. My grandfather was a miner and I loved listen to his stories and I still have his mining lamp, as seen in the blip.

I wanted to pay my own tribute but struggled with what it should be, and then I remembered a song by Max Boyce, himself an ex-miner and living up the road in Glynneath. The song in essence is about the demise of coal mining in South Wales, but for me it also talks about the hard work that mining involves, and the sacrifices these men were prepared to give up for us, to dig for black gold.

Duw it's hard by Max Boyce

In our little valley
They closed the colliery down,
And the pithead baths is a supermarket now.
Empty gurneys red with rust
Roll to rest among the rust
And the pithead baths is a supermarket now.

CHORUS:

'Cos it's hard, Duw, it's hard
Harder than they will ever know.
And it's they must take the blame,
The price of coal's the same.
And the pithead baths is a supermarket now.

They came down here from England
Because our output's low.
Briefcases full of bank clerks
That had never been below.
And they'll close the valley's oldest mine
Pretending that they're sad.
But don't you worry, Butty bach,
We're really very glad.

My clean-clothes locker's empty now,
I've thrown away the key.
And I've sold my boots and muffler
And my lampcheck 153.
But I can't forget the times we had,
The laughing midst the fear,
'Cos every time I cough I get
A mining souvenir.

I took my old helmet home with me,
Filled it full of earth,
And I planted little flowers there -
They grew for all their worth.
And it's hanging in the glasshouse now,
A living memory,
Reminding me they could have grown
In vases over me.

But I know the local magistrate,
She's got a job for me,
Though it's only counting buttons
In a local factory.
We get coffee breaks and coffee breaks,
Coffee breaks and tea.
And now I know those dusty mines
Have seen the last of me.

FINAL CHORUS
'Cos it's hard, Duw, it's hard
Harder than they will ever know.
And if ham was underground,
Would it be twelve bob a pound.
And the pithead baths is a supermarket now.
Aye, the pithead baths is a supermarket now.

Love you Gramps!