by Billy Wright
The children were happy at school that day,
Eager for the Half Term holiday,
Thinking of all the fun and games to play.
In the Assembly Hall their voices rang,
'All things bright and beautiful' they sang,
And then all too soon the fateful school bell rang.
A few minutes longer in the hall that day,
Could have reduced the deadly toll, the experts say,
A few more minutes before going on their way.
What might those children one day be?
Their future role in Society?
A Doctor, Lawyer or an Actuary?
Alas fate decreed we will never know,
What they would one day into grow,
As it delivered its swift and filthy, fatal blow.
Above the town a hill of doom,
Started moving in the morning gloom,
Turning the village school into an eerie, silent, muddy tomb.
One hundred and sixteen children dead,
Half the total roll, someone said,
'A terrible tragedy' the headlines read.
A distraught father, grief plain to see,
Claimed the Coroner's verdict had to be,
'Buried alive by the NCB.'
Nearly fifty years now have past,
But in Aberfan the pain still lasts,
For the poor, lost wee souls of Pantglas.