ABERFAN

An unknown village in the vale,
Secluded from the noisome world;
Within its borders, children played and sang,
And, from the hills behind, their echoes rang
While Aberfan lay still, in deep content.

The people lived on coal, black diamonds
Deep hewn by skilled and gallant men.
They knew the risk they ran.

The early morning kiss and tender smile,
So shyly given before the sun broke o'er the hill,
Might always be the last.
Yet down the mine they went.

They toiled below the ground
In lurking darkness.
Their songs and chat accompanied
By menacing sounds of water,

Dripping, dripping, dripping.

They read the signs, ominous and dark
And scrambled skillfully away
Before the roof fell in.
They did not always win.

Entombed were many men
And up above stood women

Praying, waiting, weeping,
Not daring e'en to hope
Much less despair.

This was their lot.

The mine became a tomb
And, in the place of warmth to cheer the heart
It spoke of cold, the chill of death
The insufferable winter in a life of spring.

Then came the day.
The hills of God stood firm.
The man-made heaps of slag

Began to move.

Weight immeasurable,
Force irresistible,
Crushing all before.
A farm, the homes of men below,
And, in their cruel and senseless spate
They could not even wait
For little children to escape.

The Junior school was crushed.

Pant Glas with all its hopes,
Its dreams, its noble expectations;

Pant Glas, built by the toil of men below
To open up new worlds for young ones up above;

Pant Glas - how fair a name! -
Was buried 'neath the slime and mud
Brought from the mine.
The bud of life
Was utterly destroyed.
The mine had won again,
And seemed to mock
All human striving
To build for children the promise
Of a fairer and a kinder world.
Alas! was it all in vain?

Merthyr Vale - the Martyrs vale!
Why should the martyr be a child?
Why claim the young for sacrifice?
Wherein lies guilt and blame?
On whom should fall the shame?
We do not know.

We only know
That Aberfan no longer
Lies secluded in the hills of Wales.

It is the centre of the world;

The world in which the tales
Of human courage, human grief are told,
Deeds of valour wrought,
Nobility achieved, but never sought,
A world of sorrow and of cruel fate
Made splendid by the simple, now the great.

For generations yet to come,
When tales are told
Of courage, human pity,
Noble grief, majestic sorrow,
When men recall
The heroism of frantic men
Undaunted in the face
Of ruthless, blind and senseless slag,
With simple pride and uplifted heart
Then shall they say to every man:

"This was the glory of Aberfan"

The late Reverend Dr. Emlyn Davies of Aberfan
29 October, 1966