(The Head on The Hill)

 

Las' wik I went  Sent 'elen'

Fus' time fer many a year

Went t'pit deawn Sutton Manor

Years ago I used t' work theer.

 

Pit 'ad gone,  nowt were left

But th'owd gates stondin' still

Whots that theer ont' slag 'eap?

A great big yed on t' hill

 

Lots o' fooark were warkin'

Wi' cameras reawnd their neck

I thowt as I 'ad time t' spare

I'd join wi 'em on t' trek.

 

I walked thro' t'gates, t' years rowlt back

Livin' pit come into mi seet

Wi' t'lampshop straight i' front

An' t'canteen on mi reet.

 

I saw th'owd grey buildings

Wi' th'eadgear stondin' ta'

Workshops, baths and offices

In mi mind I sin 'em aw

 

But as I wark'd on further

Back o't' wash, weer slag'eap 'ad been

I come across a  landscape

Not black and grey but green

 

And high above t' trees

Stondin' tall, serene an' still

Were a vision in pure white

A giant yed on t'hill

​

This disembodied yed

Were a lass beawt nine or ten

Wi' her een so tightly shut

As if recalling what 'ad been
 

But nowe her can't remember

Them 'ard but 'appy times

When fooak like me were pitmen

Working deawn I' th'mines

 

Hoo's far too young t' know

It's better aw reawnd that way

Pits are part o' history

That hoo'll read abeawt some day

​

Now hoo's dreamin' o' t' future

Of what tomorrow may howd

O' sunshine in the summer

O' winters dark and cowd

 

Maybe I'll do  same missen

No sense i' stondin' still

So I'll also look  to t' future

Like that giant yed on t'hill