A Welsh Coal Mines web page

I worked down the pit.

When I left school still a boy, back in fifty-eight,
Aged fifteen, not very tall and just six stones in weight.
I had a job for a couple of bob, on a paper round,
That's not enough I said to myself, so I'd better go underground.

I worked down the pit, I done my bit; I worked at the Celynen South,
The work was hard and the dust was bad, so the bacca stayed in my mouth.

My Dad said no don't you go, or you'll be sorry son,
But off I went to this pit in Gwent and that's how it begun.
My working place was at the face, in all the dust and grime,
The seam was low and the sweat did flow, I didn't like overtime.

I worked down the pit, I done my bit; I worked at the Celynen South,
The work was hard and the dust was bad, so the bacca stayed in my mouth.

After thirty years of blood and tears, they said there is no coal,
So they closed that mine, but I didn't pine, I just signed on the dole.
And all that I got for giving my lot working underground,
Are scars that are blue, the backache too and a chest that's not too sound.

I worked down the pit, I done my bit; I worked at the Celynen South,
The work was hard and the dust was bad, so the bacca stayed in my mouth.

J. H. Smith.