An old Miner, sits by the fireside,
Thinking back over the years,
The memories, drift upon him,
Of the toil, the sweat and the tears.

He started work as a young lad,
He wanted to follow his Pa,
There was nothing else, the money was good,
And he thought it would get him far.

But now nearly fifty years later,
After working that big black hole,
His lungs are scarred with the memory,
Of the dirt and the dust from the coal.

Jayne Davies

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-miners-tale/