Our steps falter as we reach the cage,
The last shift, the end of an era .No more descending into the dark with your marras at your side. Man and boy toiling, helmet light shining, picks attacking rock finding the black gold inside.
Bait box closes forever more into the canvas satchel it goes as does the flask standing on the floor. Memories, evocative of this mine employ generation after generation .Our hands no longer working are still, what will we do now. Idle days, heavy hearts chocking back our sorrows. No longer going down the hole they shut our existence. Our livelihood! No more digging for coal .All our yesterdays, no tomorrows.