While my thoughts were wandering through events during this pandemic, I kept remembering all the lauding of the health and care workers. Clap for the NHS, every one a hero, all get together and praise their gallant work. Not for one minute am I suggesting that they didn't deserve all that praise for their unstinting efforts day in day out, to try and protect the communities. However, a decent life with security and income with full safety on the job, would have done them more good than hurray and clapping.
It's something our lords and masters are good at, their hypocrisy knows no depth to which it will sink, when they need you most expect praise a plenty and clapping a loud, but not much more. This lead me to remember a poem written by James Mitchell, during the time when coal was the fuel that fed the economy and the state war machine, then, miners were heroes.
It's something our lords and masters are good at, their hypocrisy knows no depth to which it will sink, when they need you most expect praise a plenty and clapping a loud, but not much more. This lead me to remember a poem written by James Mitchell, during the time when coal was the fuel that fed the economy and the state war machine, then, miners were heroes.
Ye’re heroes, aye, Ye’re heroes,
When workin’ doon the mine.
They slap yer back an’ praise ye,
Ye’re gallant lads an’ fine,
Toilin’ there among the damp
Where nane o’ them wid daur,
Ye’re heroes, aye, ye’re heroes,
When getting’ coals for war.
They humour ye, praise ye,
as ye keep the bunkers fu’,
An’ the convoys bring the foodstuffs
that they ration out to you;
Or the troopships tak’ yer brithers
To the battlefields afaur,
Ye’re heroes, aye, ye’re heroes
When getting’ coals for war.
They’ll promise ye high heaven,
As the furnace flames ye feed,
In a world that’s mad wi’ murder,
Truth is sacrificed to greed;
As factories belch their smoke-clouds,
An’ their profits daily soar,
Ye’re heroes, aye, ye’re heroes,
When getting’ coals for war.
When workin’ doon the mine.
They slap yer back an’ praise ye,
Ye’re gallant lads an’ fine,
Toilin’ there among the damp
Where nane o’ them wid daur,
Ye’re heroes, aye, ye’re heroes,
When getting’ coals for war.
They humour ye, praise ye,
as ye keep the bunkers fu’,
An’ the convoys bring the foodstuffs
that they ration out to you;
Or the troopships tak’ yer brithers
To the battlefields afaur,
Ye’re heroes, aye, ye’re heroes
When getting’ coals for war.
They’ll promise ye high heaven,
As the furnace flames ye feed,
In a world that’s mad wi’ murder,
Truth is sacrificed to greed;
As factories belch their smoke-clouds,
An’ their profits daily soar,
Ye’re heroes, aye, ye’re heroes,
When getting’ coals for war.
James Mitchell.
