The Mouse Hill Mine Disaster
Mouse Hill Tragedy
A poem in memory of the victims of the mining disaster
by Celia Parkin
The trees stand as silent witness
To what once was - and is no more
High on a branch above, a solitary blackbird
Pipes out his song of lament
As the earth beneath, grassy and green
And undisturbed since time ago
Keeps is's secrets of the last moments
Of those who died below.
It began as an ordinary November day,
Winter showing well by the frost that lay.
Men and boys made ready for work
To sweat and toil in the bowels of the earth.
'Just a trickle of water', at first was told
- The horror of flood soon to unfold.
Strength, courage and hope fused into one
As they fought for life - some were gone.
The crowds gathered in silence and dismay,
Hearts heavy, then lifted - at hopeful hearsay.
Each bound together with one concern
That all would be saved - to their homes return.
Twenty one found dead one still remained.
Hearts were broken, lives were changed.
But time moved on, at last all had died
Once part of the tragedy at Mouse Hill Mine.
And so as the November's come and go
The gravestone and memorial are all that we know,
We stand in the mist,
- The bridge between now, and what went,
As the blackbird still sings
His sad lament
A special thanks to Celia Parkin (nee Neville)
E-MAIL
pelsallhistorycentre@hotmail.com
TEL. 01922 691021
