Pits and pints

In the days when the pubs were full With an ash tray on every table When the smoke was like a fog Casting patterns in the air When the juke box still played vinyl And heavy metal bands had poodle perms When they served chicken in a basket And beer didn't come in tall glasses Or glasses with a stem

When working class men 

Came in from the pits Blackened and bruised

With blisters and scars When they played dominoes And tried to forget about their day The toil in the dark In those dirty cramped tunnels Where they sweated And worked their fingers to the bone

Back in the day When the pits were the centre Of many a community When they gave work to the masses And sons followed dad's Followed dad's Followed dad's Working hard, back breaking But they didn't complain This was their life This was what put bread on the table Fed their families, fed their kidsThey were proud These minning communities Comrades one and all Together, never to be broken But they tried to break them God knows they tried But they fought together The community On the picket line Fighting for their future Standing up to the iron lady And her Tory government Who tried to concur and divide

But they were not going to be a push over

Those working men Those miners Those heroes Who stood together as one The pit men Those strong, solid working men..

It's all gone now

Times have changed But if you listen carefully The ghosts are still there...