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Wood Pit Explosion

Coal mines

By Marie381Uk Published 6 years ago 2 min read

The Wood Pit Explosion

Seventh of June 1878

The wood pit families gather to bury their dead today

The Coffins pulled by black horses, through the town

Loved ones walk on ahead and gather on pavements

Heads bow, tears flow, as the funeral coaches pass by

One final journey through their town before rest

Everyone lined Gerrard Street, families shabby dressed

They try to put on a brave face, yet they just cant

Inside remembering that day, they just want to sob

Men and boys died that day underground

Families up above in pit yard , gathered around for news

Is this really happening, could it just be a dream

Two weeks ago all was well, then the explosion came

It left behind the scene Described a dark hell

Men and boys lay dead underground, Pit bosses rang a bell

Everyone knew when the bell rI gave lives had to be lost

At the top of the pit, weeping families gathered around

Crying wives and mothers and sisters weep

Children not understanding their fathers dead

Men are buried Underground, they can't get out

Women wept hoping they would be brought out fast

Not knowing the coal miners had breathed their last

It was too late the nightmare unstoppable, had already began

Two solid weeks before everyone was brought up to pit yard

Suffering from heartbreak. The families of the dead are dazed

So sad, so many missing, so many dead all gone

Women wondered how to carry on from here Just How?

In some families four, five, or more members were gone

how can we feed our babes now mothers weep and wail

With their husbands gone to an early eternal long sleep

Today the township Ashton in Makerfield is a sorrowful site

Tragedy has happened, and no one can put it right

Much love men and children being this day lay to rest

we loved you all more than words could say,

Please bless the ones that are behind, on the very sad day

Wives cry, how do we get understanding, why did this have to be

How do we get peace of mind, please some one tell me

The wood pit explosion, a tragedy that was so unkind

A memory that no one should have to keep

Just a horrible tragedy, weep mothers and wives weep.

heartbreak

About the Creator

Marie381Uk

I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️

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