Here in northeast Yorkshire
In eighteen-o-three
James and Glen Heaton
Found the ore sleeping in Gallo Creek.
They built a hells heater
Along the shores
And they made the cannon balls
That made the Empire win it’s wars.

In Yorkshire
My sweet baby I’m sinking down
Here down Yorkshire.
The daddies worked the furnace
Kept em as hot as hell
They come from Scarfer a job that suits the devils will
Digging that coke and lime stone and their children make their pay
Them smokestacks reach’ in like the arms of god into the beautiful sky with soot and clay.

Well the daddies come on the works when the come home
From the world war 2, now the yard just scrap and rubble.
These mills that built the tanks and bombs that won this countries wars
We sent our sons to a world of wheels and steel our wondering what they died for.

From the Air Valley to the Sheffield iron range
The coal mines of Appalachia, the stories the same.
Seven hundreds tones coal a day, sir you tell me the world changed?
Once I made you rich enough to forget my name. In Yorkshire my sweet baby I’m sinking down here down in Yorkshire.

When I die I want no part of Heaven
I would not do Heavens work well
I pray the devil comes and takes and stand,
In fiery furnaces of Hell.

by Robin Bowmer

Other poems of BOWMER (4)

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