It's people now have gone away
From the village on the hill.
It stands, the ghost town of today;
For the mine is shut and still. |
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Now like a gravestone for the town
Stand smokeless chimneys tall.
The ropes that once let miners down
Hang rusting on the wall. |
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Those headgear wheels that turn no more,
The wind blows through them, shrill,
A moaning coning from a door
That's slowly swinging still. |
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Only ghosts dwell in the town
To ramble on the hill.
Where miners homes are falling down-
Now there's no more men to kill. |
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Now they've changed the miner's ways
And thrown away his skill
That served us in those bygone days,
When we'd all those ships to fill |
| |
But as we watch those homes decay,
In that ghost town on the hill.
There must be something more to say
Before we close the till. |