A pithead proud once stood here
Men with dirty faces
Plunged deep in cages
Below the surface of the earth
With ponies and canaries
To bring us coal
To give us light
To give us warmth

A pithead proud once stood here
Men with dirty faces
Worked their fingers to the bone
Working bent and on their knees
Every day facing the dangers
They wouldn’t wish upon their sons
As they imagined life above them
What it’s like to see the sun

A pithead proud once stood here
Men who coughed
Men who spluttered
Showered and bantered
Covered one another’s backs
Every day never knowing
If they’d be maimed or worse
Every day families worrying about
An empty chair and empty purse

Now the pithead is a memory
No community left to be seen
Only someone idly musing
That at least the land is green.