HOW MANY TIMES?                 
 
How many times did the Lord hold your hand,
In that underground world where we strive?
How many times did we not understand,
How we managed to survive?
Was it by skill or the 'sixth sense' that we had,
As we listened, and looked all around?
Or when the roof was all broken and the going was bad,
Was somebody else underground?
 
Were we alone when we 'timbered a fall'
All exposed to the rock and the stone?
Or did sheltering shoulders cover us all
Protecting the blood and the bone?
When haulage chains 'whipped' and when 'blackdamp' hung low,
When 'methane' rose high in the air
Was it by the teaching of others, that we knew where to go
Or was somebody with us, down there?
When roads flooded deep and when 'weight' came on fast,
with chocks 'on the collar' all day
When we thought that this day would perhaps be 'our last'
Who was it, let us walk away?
I took my Lord with me, each day to my mine,
I carried him there in my soul
And I held 'no fear' for his spirit divine
Would guard me, this day - In the coal.

 

Copyright Mick Westwood

 
 

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