The Battle for Coal

By Mark Quinn

The cold winter mornings, soot upon his face,

A Bevin Boy from Yorkshire with a look of pure disgrace.

The coal miners join him on the frosty picket line,

From South Yorkshire, Sheffield, to Newcastle upon Tyne.

Labour unions marching to save the twenty pits,

And Maggie the Conservative didn’t give a shit.

The Battle of Orgreave — clashing with the cops,

The UK coal industry going for the chop.

Arthur Scargill pleading with the scabs across the fence,

But they carried on working for that extra few pence.

Hazardous labour and frequent deadly explosions,

These men had seen it all through the smoke and corrosion.

Now they stand and watch the collieries slowly fall,

Ghost towns growing where the pit wheels stood tall.

Extraction from the earth no longer worth the hassle,

But miners and unions continued the battle.

Hundreds — maybe thousands — lost livelihoods that year,

And privatisation became the word we grew to fear.