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On 21st December 1910 tragedy struck the Pretoria
Mine, in Lancashire, when 338 boys and men were lost in an underground
explosion. Only three people were known to survive. One lady lost
her husband and four sons in the tragedy. This remains one
of the worst mining disasters on record.
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A miner plods his weary way
In the morning early.
His clogs ring like a curfew
And his face is sad and surly.
He breaks the silence of the morn
And starts the crickets singing.
Then fear stirs inside his soul
A premonition bringing. |
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A halo clings around his lamp,
The shaft is deep and daunting.
The rising cage goes speeding by
With a sound that's weird and haunting.
The shunt is full of shadows now,
His lamp shines much the brighter.
And the fear now that fills his soul
Around his heart feels tighter. |
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The tunnel now is like a threat
Low and never ending.
He hears his Mother's warning voice
As he crouches from the bending.
He dreads the feeling in his heart
And is full of self reproaches.
The flame starts climbing in his lamp
As his final hour approaches. |
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Hundreds died below that day
On a sad and dark December.
And the dreadful word-Pretoria
All miners still remember,
When a miner's wife lay sleeping
Dreaming of her man,
And to him called a warning
Just before the fire began. |
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