The Black Harvest

It was the coal that brought them here,
Those Catholics from County Cork,
And ruddy men from Worcestershire
With agriculture in their talk.
It was the coal that gave them work,
And men that took the work away,
But boom or slump, the coal remained
A harvest underneath the clay.

It was the coal that raised the tips,
And coal that fashioned Pandy Square,
And coal that brought evangelists
To shake the mountains with their prayer.
It was the coal that bought the furs
For ladies who would never dream
Of picking up a safety lamp
And crawling through the four-foot seam.

It was the coal that made them all:
Bedwellty, Ystrad, Abercrave,
But now that holes are just for moles
Can those communities survive?
Or will the young men go away
To make themselves a kinder fate
In places where they cannot see
The blood upon a hundredweight?

It was the coal, the shining coal,
That gave us visionary men
Who looked beyond the winding gear
And saw the new Jerusalem.
But coal is dirt. And coal is hurt.
And coal is money gone from Wales.
And coal is Aberfan. Oh God,
That bloody coal is coffin nails.

Herbert Williams

The Black Harvest is from the collection Ghost Country, published by Gomer Press, Llandysul, £3.95.