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WRONG ROAD ROUND - AN URBAN VILLANELLE

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For those of you unfamiliar with mining an explanation of what's going on is given in the first comment below.

 

“There’s no bigger, silly bastard undergroun’

A disgrace to thee, ‘is mam an’ ‘is class

‘E took ‘is fuckin’ shovel wrong road roun’.

 

We’d walked back in once t’shotties fired their roun’

An’dep’ty said as we wa’ clear o’ gas

There’s no bigger silly bastard undergroun’.

 

So 27 colliers knelt down

An’ crawled their way through props an’ bars just as

‘E shouts, “Mi fuckin’ shovel’s wrong road roun’”.

 

The fuckin’ pog’s that tight it wain’t turn roun’

There wa’n’t the fuckin’ space to let ‘im pass

There’s no bigger silly bastard undergroun’.

 

At fust we thought we took ‘im fo’ a clown

The silly bastard’s grinnin’ like a lass

 ‘E’d took ‘is fuckin’ shovel wrong road roun’.

 

Twenty fuckin’ minutes out an’ in-bound

That silly twat o’ thine ‘as cost us brass

There’s no bigger silly bastard undergroun’.

‘E took ‘is fuckin’ shovel wrong road roun’.”

THE ANTI-CHRIST OF HISTORY ►

Comments

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John Coopey

Fri 5th Feb 2021 18:02

I did over 20 years, Stephen. Not as an ‘orny-‘anded ‘ero, mind. I was a pappy-‘anded office wallah. And thanks for the Like, Kevin.

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Stephen Gospage

Fri 5th Feb 2021 17:12

A hell of a life, John. Thanks for the poem and the explanations.

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John Coopey

Thu 4th Feb 2021 19:17

Thanks for your thoughts, Stephen and Brian. And for the Likes, JD and Aviva.

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Stephen Atkinson

Thu 4th Feb 2021 17:59

Aalways mak' sure shool reet way rund, ye daft knacker
As me Granda would've said.

<Deleted User> (18980)

Thu 4th Feb 2021 17:23

Well we never had a mining industry where I lived John, but you could give yourself a nasty papercut if you weren't careful around the photocopier.

Seriously, a great piece...and I have massive respect for those who had to endure conditions down the pit. (Or should it be t'pit?)

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John Coopey

Thu 4th Feb 2021 16:54

Prior to the mechanisation of coalmining, most coal was hand-got. This was often done on a 3-shift cycle with Shift 1 boring and stemming the shot-holes and then firing it off. This would leave a quantity of loose coal in front of the coalface for Shift 2 to fill.
Shift 2’s job was to shovel this coal behind them onto a conveyor which ran in front of the gob (the area behind the working face where the roof was allowed to fall). The conveyor took the coal away down the face into the roadway system and on out of the mine.
Shift 3 would then dismantle the props and reset them on the newly claimed ground, thus advancing the face. Finally they would ram over the conveyor to its new position. Face teams would be paid on the weight of coal produced.
This poem concerns Shift 2 – the hand-fillers.
In a narrow seam, having crawled into position on the face in file, a filler would lie on his side and shovel the coal over his shoulder onto the belt behind. He had a pog (or stint) of about 10 yards so a 200 yard face accommodated about 20 men.
Space was so tight that a filler could not pass another filler – everyone had to crawl in and out in crocodile. Space was so tight that a cardinal sin which embarrassed many a novice, was to take his shovel in “wrong road round”. You didn’t do it twice!
This villanelle is a conversation (a rant!) by a collier at my dad as we sat drinking In the Welfare. The language is real despite it never having happened.

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