Warnings
We beg him to come to the beach, get some sun:
thunder's forecast tonight. But he says
he's got to work
if we want to eat.
The dog tries to stop him
but his mind is made up. She goes to his shoes,
sniffs them all over, sits by them
and whines. When we coax her to come
she lies down and snarls
her head on his shoes.
We leave her behind, catch the bus to St Bees,
meet our neighbour. Her man's on nights
and he's at their allotment
so she's brought the kids. They can't understand
why our dog wouldn't come.
When the kids dig a tunnel
that the sea undermines, their cries of dismay
shroud a steam-horn's refrain:
one long then six short notes
in a sad minor key.
'You can't hear t'pit-horn this far away,'
she says.
'Pit's gone up, I know,' I say,
'We'll ev te gaa back.'
'But we've only just come,' the kids wail.
'Gaa yam, lass,' she tells me,
'They can stay here wid us.'
As I get on the bus I see policemen arrive.
They'll head for the beach
where no one can hear
the pit-horn's lament
and call everyone back
to the pit that's gone up.
We beg him to come to the beach, get some sun:
thunder's forecast tonight. But he says
he's got to work
if we want to eat.
The dog tries to stop him
but his mind is made up. She goes to his shoes,
sniffs them all over, sits by them
and whines. When we coax her to come
she lies down and snarls
her head on his shoes.
We leave her behind, catch the bus to St Bees,
meet our neighbour. Her man's on nights
and he's at their allotment
so she's brought the kids. They can't understand
why our dog wouldn't come.
When the kids dig a tunnel
that the sea undermines, their cries of dismay
shroud a steam-horn's refrain:
one long then six short notes
in a sad minor key.
'You can't hear t'pit-horn this far away,'
she says.
'Pit's gone up, I know,' I say,
'We'll ev te gaa back.'
'But we've only just come,' the kids wail.
'Gaa yam, lass,' she tells me,
'They can stay here wid us.'
As I get on the bus I see policemen arrive.
They'll head for the beach
where no one can hear
the pit-horn's lament
and call everyone back
to the pit that's gone up.
At 2 pm on Friday 15th August 1947, a very hot day when everyone was at St Bees beach, an explosion at William Pit, Whitehaven, Cumbria
killed 104 miners leaving over two hundred children fatherless.
killed 104 miners leaving over two hundred children fatherless.