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In memory of Uncle George Coulter who went down the mine at 14.

He was only 14, not much more than a bairn,

Schooldays were over, there’s no more to learn,

At least not at school, their bit was done,

A job down the pit, his new life begun.

His dad held his hand, put a cap on his head,

“We’re both off to Lumley”, were the words that he said,

Off down the road, hob nailed boots on their feet,

They clipped and they clopped, as they went down the street.

 When he left home that morning, he hadn’t a plan,

He’d leave as a bairn, but return as a man.


Copyright Malcolm Barnes

Durham Sweep Chimney Sweep.


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